


Deep Crimson Rapture

by YumeNoTsuzuki (Yumejin)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Child Abuse, Dark Character, Harry is smart, Insanity, Less-Than-Light!Dumbledore, M/M, Past Abuse, Pre-Slash, Will be a very long fic, good and evil are subjective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yumejin/pseuds/YumeNoTsuzuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I offer you the truth, only truth,” the stranger said with a deranged smile showing his yellow, dirty teeth. Something wild and dangerous was lurking in the onyx depths of his gaze. And maybe Harry was mad too, like his Uncle had told him on numerous occasions, but he felt he could trust those words.</p><p>/abandoned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monochrome World Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> The rating WILL go up. Just not for a while yet.
> 
> Spoilers: The first four books and Horcruxes. There might be slight mentions of OotP. (
> 
> Pairing: Future HP/LV, but not until much later on in the story. You have been warned. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Other notes: Sirius might seem OOC, but believe me, there is good reason. First beta pass by BGL. It's a bit short, but I promise the next chapter is longer <3

It was a quiet Friday night and the perfectly normal Dursley family was having a perfectly normal dinner. Except their ‘normal’ meant that the one scurrying around the kitchen, handling the heavy pans with bubbling sauces and boiling vegetables was a short, frail looking boy in clothes much too big to possibly fit him. His name was Harry Potter.

 

“Hurry up boy, I’m tired from work and I want food now!” yelled the fat man from the couch in front of the television in the living room. His face was red – he’d had a few drinks to soothe his nerves after a long day of attempting to complete beneficial contracts for his company. Next to him was his son, an identical image to the fat man’s younger self. He was short and very round, fat on his belly spilling out from under his jumper. He was eating a packet of crisps very loudly, surely to annoy Harry on purpose.

 

His stomach rumbled and Harry sneaked a longing glance at the curry cooking in the pan in front of him. If he was lucky, his family would let him eat some of the leftovers after they were done. He did his best to ignore his obese cousin’s loud munching and attempted to focus on his task again; knowing very well what would happen if he accidentally burned the Dursleys’ food. Uncle Vernon was always very angry whenever he messed up and Harry’s small fingers clenched the pan handle tighter at the frightening memory of the last time this happened. For a minute, he wondered why Dudley was never punished when he misbehaved. He already knew the answer to that though, although he preferred not to think about it. It was all because Dudley was normal and he was a _freak._ His family made sure to remind him of this fact every day so he wouldn’t forget his place. Sometimes, just sometimes, he allowed a small part of himself to wish a distant relative would suddenly show up for him and take him away from the Dursleys and he would be loved like any other boy his age. It was an empty wish though; one that would never come true. Uncle Vernon had always made it very clear that any of his other relatives were dead. The man always smiled with wicked glee in his eyes when he reminded Harry that his father was a drunk and he got his mother killed in a car crash. Sometimes Harry cried for them, cried for a mother that he never knew, wishing she was there to embrace him and soothe his pain after his uncle punished him again. But with passing time as he grew older, he realized this would never happen. He gave up on dreaming of such things, or so he liked to tell himself to help detach his feelings from the awful reality.

 

That one sad moment of distraction was enough for a grave mistake. He accidentally knocked over the small tub with pepper into the pan. The food was most likely ruined and Harry shuddered thinking of what will happen when his aunt finds out.

 

He rushed to attempt to salvage the meal by adding in different ingredients, which could help soothe the taste. He didn’t dare to turn around when he heard high heels knocking on the floor in the hallway, approaching closer and closer.

 

He heard a cough from behind him and he knew he was doomed.

 

“You ruined the food!” his aunt snarled, her horse-like neck stretching unnaturally in an attempt to look at the pan closer. Her thin lips thinned even more as if she saw something really disgusting as she looked at him. “You were probably daydreaming again, weren’t you?” she demanded, already knowing the answer. “Fix it,” she commanded stiffly, “While I go tell your Uncle what you’ve done.” She turned around on her heels and left, slamming the door behind her.

 

Harry winced, feeling as if his blood turned cold. This was the moment he was dreading the most and it was unavoidable. Even if he tried to run, the police would find him and bring him back to his Uncle, just so he could be punished again. It _ha_ _d_ happened before.

 

Loud, heavy footsteps shook the flooring in the hallway as his Uncle approached. His face was a deep red, his eyes were narrowed into tiny slits and his lips were turned up in a cruel smile, which was full of promise of how much enjoyment he would take in punishing Harry this time. 

 

Harry felt like running away, hiding and screaming for help. But his rational mind told him it was useless to even try. Instead, he tried to detach himself from the fear, imagining he was in a park on a sunny day, having an ice cream. But it was very, very difficult when all he could see his enormous uncle stop right in front of him, his hands already clenched into fists.

 

“You ungrateful little bastard, how dare you! We provide you with food, clothes and a place to live out of the goodness of our hearts and this is how you repay us?!” Vernon roared, spit flying from his mouth and onto Harry’s broken glasses. The boy looked down onto the floor in both shame and fear, but a huge, sweaty palm grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look up. “You will look at me when I talk to you, _freak!_ ” the man demanded through gritting teeth, his brow furrowing with rage. Harry tried to back away, but the hand was clasping his jaw so strongly and painfully he couldn’t even move an inch.

 

Vernon raised his other hand, readying to bring it slamming down on Harry’s right cheek, but was interrupted as the doorbell rang. The fat man stilled suddenly, his eyes darting to the hallway quickly before coming back to Harry.

“Go get the door!” he ordered, finally releasing the boy’s chin.

 

Harry knew better than to argue and he quickly trotted off to the door, his jaw clenched stiffly. He opened the door and saw a tall man with wild black curls of hair covering his face, his onyx eyes sparkling in the deep darkness beneath. He was terribly unkempt, his face was covered in dirt and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a long time.

 

Harry swallowed thickly. The man looked scary, but for some reason he didn’t feel any bad intent coming from him. He’d always been able to sense danger from people, ever since he was little (his uncle said he was insane and to never speak of such nonsense again) and it had never been wrong.

 

He stood there, staring at the dark stranger in silence.

 

It seemed as though there was something…familiar about the man, but he discarded the thought immediately, he would have remembered seeing someone like this before. And he definitely wasn’t one of his Uncle’s ‘acquaintances’, he thought. He gave off the same mysterious feeling like the odd woman or man in colorful cloaks who sometimes wanted to shake his hand on the street, or bow down to him with something similar to reverence. Every time, his Uncle or Aunt would tell him off for associating with ‘ _freaks of your sort’._

 

“What’s taking so long, boy!” Vernon yelled from the living room, getting up off his seat with no small amount of effort, grunting. Harry’s blood once again felt like it had turned into ice, he was trapped between two scary, big men and had no idea what to do.

 

Vernon only took a second to look at the stranger dumbly before his face contorted into an expression of severe displeasure, ‘How dare you bring your… _sort_ to our respectable, normal home!’ he almost shouted, his hand rising suddenly. Harry winced, knowing exactly what was about to happen…but then it didn’t. He opened his eyes hesitantly and noticed that the stranger was holding back his Uncle’s hand with a firm grip.

 

“You will _not_ harm him, you Muggle filth,” he said in a quiet, raspy voice, which sent shivers down Harry’s spine. It sounded strained, like it hadn’t been used in a very long time.

 

Harry released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He was completely awe-struck at how the man, despite his sickly and unkempt appearance, managed to hold back his Uncle’s hit without any considerable effort.

 

Vernon however, did not seem to have the same danger sensors as other people. He pulled back his hand violently, thick veins on his temples pulsing angrily.

Harry took a step back, knowing all too well his uncle would stop at nothing to punish him now. He backed up into a corner of the hallway, shaking with fear.

He wanted to curl up and hide in his cupboard under the stairs and pretend that all the bad things in the world didn’t exist. But he knew the look on his uncle’s face too well. Blinded with rage, he would rampage through the house until he got Harry. He always got his punishment in the end. There was no running away.

 

“You dare stop me from appropriately punishing the boy in my own house!” roared Vernon, launching himself at the stranger, fists ready to fight. Harry watched in astonishment as the tall dark stranger merely sidestepped the attack with fluid grace that he hadn’t from judging the man’s appearance. Vernon almost fell over with the momentum of all his weight launching forward, but he stopped just in time, balancing himself with his hands. It looked really rather undignified next to the stranger who just calmly stood aside. Harry was amazed, no one had ever avoided his Uncle like this and the stranger was quickly becoming his new hero. 

 

His face burning with shame and rage, Vernon turned around. “What are you standing around here for, back to your room, boy!” he yelled. Harry was about to turn around and lock himself up in the cupboard, dreading the moment his punishment would finally arrive, when the stranger spoke up again.

 

“Harry can stay here,” he said calmly, quietly. Vernon almost managed to land a punch on the man’s face this time, but he quickly and gracefully stepped back and avoided the fat fist again.

 

“He listens to me, not some scum like you!” Vernon spat, his face redder than ever from the effort he was exerting right now. “Go away, we don’t want your sort around here!” he added, stepping back in the house and slamming the door afterwards. His breath was ragged and shallow when he turned to Harry, who was cowering in the corner. “You will beg for death when I’m done with-“ he started in a low, vicious tone, slowly approaching the cornered boy. He was cut off by a huge blast and a flash of red light, which suddenly knocked down the door and a bit of the wall. Vernon was thrown back by the explosion and fell unconscious on the floor. Harry gasped in surprise, but made no move. The stranger walked in and advanced on Harry, his eyes sparkling a bit madly.

 

Harry ran through the house and out the back door, his fast pulse thumping loudly in his ears. He ran lightly and quickly, looking back for only a second to see the man with dark hair following just at his heels, looking more as if he were gliding just above the ground, his movements were so quick and smooth. But this wasn’t a time to be admiring the stranger’s graceful movements; he had just blown up a huge part of the wall and knocked out Uncle Vernon. And now he was after Harry.  He had been in a situation like this many times before, his cousin Dudley and his friends made it an official sport of theirs to hunt Harry down during lunch break at school and try to corner him and beat him up. They didn’t often succeed, Harry was quick and nimble and almost always managed to get away. The memory of each time they did catch him was a huge motivator when it came to running away _fast._

He ran through the back garden and out into the park behind it. It was getting dark outside; the streetlights were already turned on. Harry didn’t feel out of place in the park at night, it was often where he waited until he was allowed back into the house if the Dursleys had any visitors.  Sometimes he had to stay out long into the cold nights, curled up on the top of the slide, hiding from the wind as much as he could. It was better than listening to Dudley’s insults with a straight face in front of the guests.

 

This time, he welcomed the cold wind as it soothed and caressed his burning skin. His body was hot from running and he felt a little bit disoriented. Stopping, he gasped for breath and tried to calm down and think about what he could do now.

 

“You don’t have to run from me Harry,” he heard coming from right behind him, in that dangerous, raspy voice. Startled, he gasped and tried to back away, tripping over a stone and falling to the ground. How did the man get behind him so fast? He started panicking a bit, but when he looked up, a pale hand with long, thin fingers was stretched out before him. It had numerous cuts and bruises all over and the skin seemed almost cracked in several places. His nails were long and dirty, broken unevenly. Harry hesitated but eventually took the offered hand. It was warmer than he expected. He got back up with a bit of help and proceeded to pat the dirt off his trousers a bit.

 

Eyeing the stranger cautiously and distrustfully, he finally said, “How do you know my name?” in a quiet voice.

 

The man didn’t respond immediately, instead looked at Harry with a strange mixture of feelings in his black eyes, which Harry couldn’t quite recognize. But now the eyes seemed warm and welcoming instead of dangerous like before.

 

“Everyone in our world knows your name, Harry Potter,” the man said mysteriously and then grabbed Harry’s hand suddenly. The boy tried to pull away, startled by the unexpected movement, but was firmly held in place.

With his other hand, the man took out a wooden… _stick?..._ and murmured something under his breath, pointing it at a cut on Harry’s hand. He must have got cut by a branch of a hedge when running, he figured, but now the cut was gone as if it was never there. Harry looked up at the man with wide, hopeful eyes which after a short moment turned calculating.

 

“You’re like me. You can make things happen,” he stated stiffly, unsure whether he should be happy, surprised or scared.  The man smiled for the first time and suddenly it seemed to lift many years from his face.

 

“Yes Harry, I’m a wizard just like you and your parents,’ he said in a hushed whisper as if to avoid straining his voice.  There was warmth in his expression for a moment, but it quickly faded to an emotionless mask again. ‘I came here to take you away from those…filthy Muggles,” he said with contempt so clear in his voice it made Harry shiver. Despite still being somewhat scared by the man, Harry’s heart jumped with joy at hearing this. It had been his dream to be whisked away by someone who could take him away from the Dursleys, forever.

“What’s a wizard? And a Muggle? Will you really take me away from them?” he bombarded the man with questions, unable to restrain himself. The man chuckled which in turn initiated a slew of raspy coughs. Harry’s expression fell from ecstatic to worried in less than a second. “Are you ok?” he asked, looking up at the stranger’s face with concern.

 

The man merely waved his hand dismissively. “I will be all right,” he said flatly. “Now, do you want to come with me or not? If you decide to come into my care, we will have to wipe out your _family’s_ memories and you will have to promise to wait with any questions you might have until we’re somewhere safe. If you decide to go back, I will erase your memory of this and fix the house so you can go on living as if nothing happened,” he explained quietly, but Harry was a careful listener and paid rapt attention. “Are we clear on that?” the stranger added in a serious tone that left no room for discussion. Harry swallowed thickly, his heart pounding as he thought of what to do next. After a long, silent moment, he finally said ‘I’d like to go with you,’ he admitted quietly. ‘My family hates me anyway,’ he added bitterly, looking back at the house in the distance.

 

“Then all we have to do is to make sure those Muggles don’t remember anything. Well, I suppose I could kill them on the spot…” he trailed off, but went quiet at Harry’s horrified expression. “We’ll just erase their memories,” he reassured quickly, although there was a small note of disappointment in his voice.

 

He moved towards the house without further delay, walking in long strides without making even the slightest noise. Harry had to almost run to keep up.

When they arrived back at the house, they were welcomed by a conscious and enraged Vernon Dursley and a terrified Petunia, who was trying to protect her son from them, which looked rather funny as the fat boy attempted to hide behind her skinny frame.

 

“You-“ Vernon started, but was not given a chance to finish as the stranger stunned the three Dursleys with a wave of his wooden stick.  They fell to the floor like bricks. He then made a complicated pattern in the air with it and Harry watched in amazement as parts of the wall built back up, pieces of the door stuck back together and flew into their place in the doorframe and finally the wallpaper plastered itself back on the wall as if everything was done by a huge invisible hand which worked incredibly fast.

 

“Wow...” Harry choked out after a minute of dumbfounded silence. He had managed to fix his glasses when they were broken, but this was magic at a level he wouldn’t ever even have dreamed of.

 

“Neat isn’t it,” the stranger mused quietly, smirking. He then turned to the three unconscious bodies. "Are you sure I shouldn’t kill them Harry? They’ve done so much to you…"he asked again, his wand already trained on Vernon.

 

Harry shook his head vehemently, "No, no! I mean... they did hurt me but I don’t think they deserve to die. I've never thought about it that way before. I don't know..."he said quietly, thinking on the spot. "Sorry," he added sheepishly, looking down at the ground. The man nodded reluctantly.

 

“Then I will just erase their memories of today. They will think you simply vanished,” he then said something that sounded like ‘ _Obliviate’_ and a bright blue stream of light emerged from his wooden stick and hit Vernon first, then he repeated the process on Petunia and Dudley.  "We should go now," the man suddenly said as if noticing something. "Hold onto my arm," he ordered louder than he spoke before and it came out rather harsh. Harry winced but did so anyway. Before he could ask what was going to happen, he felt himself being almost pulled backwards by an invisible force and the world around him went spinning, turning into a blur of colour before his eyes. 


	2. Escape Into The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by BGL.

His feet hit the ground suddenly and both of them lost their balance.

 

Completely disoriented, Harry blindly felt the wall behind him for support as he got back to his feet, feeling dangerously close to vomiting. Before he even managed to regain his bearings, he heard a harsh intake of air behind him and an onslaught of raspy, violent coughs. With a dull thud, the figure beside him fell to the ground. Panicking, Harry blinked furiously to get his vision to focus.

 

The stranger had collapsed on the floor, holding a hand up to his chest, trying to stop the cough, but it only got worse. It looked like he couldn’t catch his breath at all and Harry was now desperately trying to think of how to help. Water, perhaps a drink would help? He looked around, only now inspecting his surroundings. They were in a dark hallway; the wooden flooring was damp and dirty, covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. The walls looked like they had once been a deep green, but now the colour had faded, the paint cracking and coming off in most places. There was mould in the corners, and only then Harry noticed how stuffy and smelly the place was. But that didn’t matter, he had to find some water… but he didn’t know where to go, the place looked huge and there were many doors, none of them looking like a bathroom or a kitchen.

 

Before he could get up and look for the right room, the man was grabbing onto Harry’s arm desperately. His grip was strong and painful, his skin feeling cold as ice. He was trying to stop the coughs, which were raking through his body painfully, making him spit out small amounts of blood, which sprinkled onto Harry’s hands.

 

His eyes widened, the sight of blood reminding him all too vividly of his ‘punishments’. This made him realize, he’d always managed to heal his own injuries faster, so he thought that maybe, maybe, if he wished hard enough, his power could stop the horrible coughs. Desperately wanting to help, he stared at the man intently, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, desperately thinking _stop stop stop_ , wishing with all his being to cure the stranger’s illness, or at least just stop the cough which was shaking the man’s entire body and making his eyes gloss over with tears.

 

Suddenly, the man’s chest started glowing a faint blue colour. It seemed to pulse, growing weaker and weaker, at the same time as the cough subsided.

 

The stranger looked at him with disbelief, taking in and releasing a long, shuddering breath. Harry was finally calming down a bit too, but tears filling his eyes.

 

“Don’t you dare do that again,” he said weakly, choking back a sob. The man pulled him down into a tight embrace, tangling his hand into Harry’s black hair.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He held Harry for several minutes in silence broken only by the boy’s quiet sobs.

 

“You have saved my life, Harry. Thank you,” he said slowly, his voice even quieter and raspier than before.

 

Blinking back the tears, the boy’s green eyes looked up at him.

 

“Are you ill?” he asked, drawing back from the embrace slowly.

 

“Azkaban does this to everyone after a few years,” the man gave him a toothy grin which made Harry shudder. Several of the teeth at the front were missing and the rest were a nasty shade of yellow with black specks all over them.

 

“Azkaban?”

 

“It’s a prison for wizards. My personal hell for the last seven years,” something dark and feral was lurking in the man’s gaze.  Harry shuddered again, his mind racing. The man was an escaped prisoner? No wonder he looked so…wild. But he didn’t seem so bad, did he? He was wondering if coming with the stranger was a good idea, but quickly stopped thinking that way. There was nothing worse than the Dursleys, right?

 

Before he was given any more time to think, a loud _crack_ was heard behind him and he turned around sharply.

 

A pair of huge, brown, bloodshot eyes were gaping at him from merely inches away and he fell backwards with a surprised gasp, falling over into the stranger’s lap. He stared at the creature in front of him, speechless.

 

It was ugly and old, with loose skin hanging off its elbows and knees. It was also deathly thin and dressed only in a ruined and stained dish cloth.

 

“A filthy half blood intruding in the noble house of Black!” the creature wailed, holding up his hands in a desperate gesture. “What would Kreacher’s Lady Black say if she knew, oh what would she say!” it went on, seemingly ignoring Harry’s bewildered expression. Thick, huge tears were streaming down its face, making it look even more disturbing than before.

 

“SHUT UP,” the stranger bellowed louder than Harry would have thought him capable of. The creature’s eyes snapped back to them, only now noticing the man sitting on the floor.

 

“Master Sirius, “ the creature bowed reluctantly, its contempt for the man clear as day.

 

The man’s mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but no sound came forth. Instead, he started coughing again, however not as violently as before. Harry started panicking again, but before he had a chance to react, the man passed out.

 

*

 

When his eyes opened again, he was on a bed, feeling warmer than he had in years. Harry was sitting on a stool beside him, looking at him with worry.

 

“How long was I out?” he asked, massaging his temples lightly and letting his vision adjust to the light which was filling the small room. Dust was rising up from every surface, visible in the sunny patch beside him. Green eyes blinked at him, glistening with unshed tears.

 

“Two days,” Harry replied in a small voice.

 

Only then, he noticed dark shadows under the boy’s eyes and he felt his heart clench with guilt. Clearly Harry stayed up the whole time, looking after him.

 

“I’m so sorry Harry, I promise this will not happen again.” He assured the boy, hoping he could actually keep to his word. Harry shrugged and then looked at him again, calmly and evenly.

 

“Sirius.”

 

Sirius blinked, confused.

 

“That’s your name isn’t it?” Harry asked, but it sounded more like a statement. “Kreacher told me.” He glanced towards the door, as if expecting the creature to come back.

 

“Yes…” Sirius replied, arching an eyebrow.

 

Harry hesitated, remembering his Aunt always telling him not to ask questions. His curiosity won in the end though and his eyes sparkled, “Who are you?” he asked, fidgeting a bit.

 

“My name is Sirius Orion Black,” the man said slowly, his voice sounding warmer than before. “But something tells me this isn’t all you want to know.”

 

Jumping up from the stool, Harry started pacing around in a small circle. “Why did you come for me? What did you mean when you said I’m a wizard? What’s a Muggle? And why were you in prison? Why did you escape?” he fired off questions as they came to mind.  Sirius chuckled.

 

“Let’s take it slowly, we have time,” he said, but Harry glared at him, demanding answers. “First, I came to free you from living with that filth because I’m your Godfather.”

 

Harry stared at him for a few moments, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

 

“What? But…why didn’t my Aunt or Uncle tell me about you?” the raven-haired boy finally managed to ask, still gaping at Sirius.

 

“Did they ever really tell you anything? They lied about your parent’s death. Lily and James Potter did not die in a car crash. They were both wizards, like you, and me, while your Aunt is a filthy lowlife. A Muggle. That’s what we call non-magic people. Petunia had always been jealous of Lily and hated her powers. She hated her with a passion. I think you can work out why she didn’t tell you anything,” Sirius explained and Harry’s eyes flared with hatred for his so-called family.

 

“She knew! And she didn’t tell me!” he exclaimed, his hands forming fists. “How did they die?” he asked after a moment, his tone calmer again. He knew getting angry now wasn’t going to change anything. Sirius’ smile faded away and a grim expression settled on his features again.

 

“They were killed by the Dark Lord, because I betrayed them,” he said, shaking his head sadly. Harry’s eyes were wide and he stared at the man with his mouth open.

 

“You betrayed them? You’re the reason they’re dead!” he couldn’t believe it. His magic swirled around in his core angrily. Sirius was a bit startled, but an insane smile spread on his lips, showing broken and missing teeth again.

 

“Yes, Harry.” Sirius tilted his head a bit, still grinning. “It was all me! I told the Dark Lord where they were hiding! He went there, that night eight years ago, pointed his wand at them and BOOM! AVADA KEDAVRA! The house was blown up, they were dead!” he cackled, madness sparkling in his eyes with glee. “Then I went after Pettigrew, the only person who knew of my betrayal! I was going to kill that little rat, to chop him into tiny, bloody pieces! But he got away… and I was thrown in Azkaban without so much as a trial!” he spat with so much hatred that Harry flinched, despite how angry he felt at the moment. His magic was pulsing around him in green sparks and his eyes glowed eerily.

 

“Why! Why did you betray them! How could you?” Harry screamed with rage, his magic intuitively attacking Sirius, but the man seemed to not be affected.

 

“SEVEN YEARS! Seven years in that filthy, rotten place while the Dementors fed on my soul! I might have betrayed them, but they deserved to die! Blood traitors!” He roared, flicking Harry’s attacking magic away with a swat of his hand. A shimmering blue shield appeared in front of him and then faded just as quickly. “And what are you going to do, Harry? Are you going to hurt me? Kill me?” he mocked, leaning forward to get closer to Harry. His eyes were wide; the deranged look the man was giving him was making Harry shiver. “You never even knew your parents! And I saved you from those worthless Muggles! I can offer you a new life, a better life. Are you going to go back to them and then become a pawn to those blood traitors, the same people who placed you in the Muggles’ care even though they knew you were magical and had a Godfather who could take care of you? That was before they even knew I’d betrayed them, they thought I was innocent and even then they wouldn’t have entrusted you to me. Dumbledore just wanted you to be oblivious to magic so he could mould you into their _perfect_ little weapon.  I might have caused your parents death, but I can offer you freedom, something you will never have with the other side.” Sirius offered, leaning in so close to Harry now that their noses were almost touching, his onyx eyes opened unnaturally wide, boring into Harry’s mind with ferocious intensity. The boy backed away quickly, thoughts swirling in his mind angrily. The man was right, he never even knew his parents… and even though Sirius was the one who caused their death, he could now offer Harry a better life. It was a choice between two evils. People who killed his parents and people who placed him with the Dursleys.

 

“I offer you the truth, Harry. Only truth. It’s your choice,” Sirius’ expression never changed from that deranged smile showing dirty, yellow teeth. Something wild and dangerous was lurking in the onyx depths of his gaze, just waiting to strike.

 

Harry knew he should have been scared and running, but his legs refused to listen to him. He stared at the man in front of him, the man who was both the cause of his parents’ death and his only remaining family that wasn’t the Dursleys. He was conflicted, but for some reason he wasn’t as angry at the man as he thought he should have been. Sirius protected him from his Uncle and offered him a new home. He knew he never wanted to go back to the Durleys. He’d rather live on the streets than go back there. They hated the very air he breathed and fed him lies every day. He might have been only eight years old, but he was far from stupid. He knew he had a chance to be happy with this man, even though he was completely unstable and had escaped from prison. His other choice was to return to the miserable life at Privet Drive. Maybe he was crazy too, like his Uncle told him on numerous occasions, but something told him he could trust this man with his future.

 

“I will stay with you,” he said quietly, so quietly Sirius would have missed it if his hearing hadn’t been improved by spending years in the silence of his prison cell, straining to hear the comforting breathing of another human being. He blinked at Harry, surprised. He had expected he’d have to force the boy to stay with him. He was the master of this house, so he could easily stop Harry from leaving. One word from him and the manor would be locked down completely. No, he hadn’t expected this at all. Was the boy more broken by the Muggles than he had previously thought?

 

“I will stay with you,” Harry repeated, a bit louder this time, determination in his eyes, as if he had made up his own mind. Sirius broke down in tears, feeling the rush of excitement from his magic dying down, leaving his body shuddering and his mind, vulnerable.

 

“Come here, Harry,” he pleaded quietly, his voice shaking. The boy allowed himself to be embraced tightly, standing there stiffly. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” Sirius said in his ear gently, softly. Harry was confused and shocked, still surprised by his own decision to stay. But he felt safe within the warm embrace and his doubts slowly faded away as his exhausted body finally gave in to the need of sleep and he slumped into Sirius’ arms, his eyes involuntarily closing.

 

*

 

“Master Sirius, Master Harry, wake up, breakfast is ready!”

 

They both woke up suddenly, startled. Sirius pushed Harry away harshly, getting his wooden stick out.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, gritting his teeth angrily.

 

With a sheepish grin, Sirius relaxed. “Sorry. Not used to people,” he shrugged, not really looking apologetic. “I see you’ve somehow managed to convince Kreacher to listen to you. That wretch never did like me, even when I was little.”

 

“If you just ask nicely, he listens rather well. And I had plenty of time to practice that while you were passed out,” Harry grumbled, not at all pleased, remembering the two days he spent over the unconscious man who had a high fever, with only a grumpy old ‘house-elf’ for company.

 

Sirius chuckled, getting out of bed. Several of his joints cracked loudly, to which he paid no mind.  

 

“Well, let’s see what he prepared for us,” he said cheerfully, leading Harry down the hallway and through a large double door. A horrible smell hit their nostrils and they promptly left.

 

“What the hell, Kreacher?!” Sirius exclaimed, covering his nose quickly.

 

“This house has been abandoned since Master Sirius’ father has passed away,” the old elf explained, holding out a basket full of badly rotten buns to them. “Even Kreacher’s preserving magic didn’t help too much.”

 

Harry felt sick from just looking at the ‘food’, so he turned away quickly. He briefly wondered what the old house-elf had been thinking, but quickly gave up trying to find an explanation. The creature was senile and crazy.

 

“Get rid of that, Kreacher. Go buy some fresh bread and something to go with it, quickly,” Sirius ordered, but the elf did not budge. “Please.”

 

With a loud crack, the old elf disappeared, startling Harry a bit. The man smiled at Harry apologetically.

 

“I had intended to take you to our house in the Scottish Highlands, but it seems like I wasn’t quite ready to apparate that far yet and we ended up in another one of my family’s houses. It has been abandoned for nearly twenty years now,” he explained. “Must have been the first thing to pop into my head.”

 

“Ah,” Harry nodded, looking around the house for the first time. Before, he had only stayed beside Sirius’ bed, not daring to explore the huge, dark house by himself. Particularly when Kreacher could have popped out from around any corner.

 

“The charms preserving the house haven’t been maintained regularly and eventually failed...” Sirius muttered to himself, inspecting a painting on the wall in the hallway.

 

“Who’s that?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. The painting showed two young men with smooth, perfectly trimmed wavy hair and pitch black eyes. They were both dressed in expensive looking, midnight blue robes. The colours on the painting were faded through.

 

“Regulus Arcturus Black at your service,” the younger man from the portrait said, a slight smirk on his lips. Harry gasped, staring at the picture in awe. The older of the two boys winked at him.

 

“And Sirius Orion Black,” he added and Harry glanced to the real Sirius, who was grinning at him.

 

“Me and my younger brother,” he explained, pointing at the smirking teen on the painting.  “I was seventeen at the time and Regulus was fifteen,”

 

Harry bit his tongue before asking yet another question, about where Sirius’ brother was now.  The man caught his sneaking glance though.

 

“Regulus is dead. He was killed by the Light wizards just before his eighteenth birthday,” he said sourly, averting his eyes from the painting.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. The Light side killed many people, but our side killed twice as many. But at least we don’t deceive our own. Everyone with the Dark willingly made the choice, knowing the dangers and consequences that followed,” Sirius said dismissively and Harry knew better than to press the topic further.

 

“So…your family were all wizards?” he asked hesitantly.

 

“Yes, we were a pure-blood family, wizards only. We don’t associate or mingle with lowlifes and Muggles. _Toujours Pur,_ ” He said proudly, pointing at a dusty family crest above a different door. It was a blood red shield with green vines around it. There were three crows on it as well as two words. “Always pure. My family’s motto.” Sirius pointed out.

 

“That’s cool. Wizards shouldn’t live with Muggles. They don’t understand us,” Harry said, thinking of all the times Vernon punished him for accidents with magic and Sirius patted his back with an approving smile.

 

“Indeed. They will never understand us.”

 

With a crack, Kreacher returned, preventing Sirius from talking further. He was holding a few bags of groceries and fresh bread.

 

“Breakfast will be ready in two minutes, Masters. You just wait in the dining room, while Kreacher prepares it,” the old elf ushered them towards the room with the door under the Black family crest.

 

It was a large, long room with a huge, dusty table taking up most of the space in it. Above them was a chandelier, which looked really fancy, although very far from being clean. With a wave of his wooden stick, Sirius banished most of the dust.

 

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously, eyeing the object in Sirius’ hand. The man’s smile fell.

 

“I keep on forgetting you don’t know these things,” he shook his head. “This is a wand. Each wizard has his own which is specific to him. They’re all different. For example, mine has a Thestral hair in it. Someone else’s will have a unicorn hair. You use them to focus your power, because it’s very hard to do it without one, although with enough practice, it’s possible. The way you healed me the other day, it was wandless magic. It’s very impressive for someone your age. You must be very powerful,” Sirius mused and Harry arched an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t respond, processing the information in his head.  “You will get one soon enough,” Sirius said and Harry couldn’t help but grin in excitement. He couldn’t wait to learn proper magic.

 

Kreacher stormed in with a few plates with fresh sandwiches and two glasses of juice. Harry and Sirius both quickly started eating, realizing just how hungry they were.

 

“Kreacher will go buy more things for Masters later, first Kreacher will clean up in the kitchen,” the elf announced and vanished. Sirius shook his head.

 

“I still can’t believe you’ve made him listen. He has always hated be. It might be because you look a bit like Regulus… he loved my brother and worshipped the very ground he walked on.”

 

Harry didn’t reply, deciding to simply chew his food carefully. He felt Sirius’s inspecting gaze on his face, but refused to meet it.

 

 

*

 

 

It was autumn. Yellow and red leaves danced in the wind outside quietly. The shimmering gold sun reflecting on them caught his gaze and he finally looked up from the small writing in front of him.

 

“Why did Voldemort want to kill me?” Harry asked, after reading ‘The Rise and the Fall of the Dark Lord’. It answered some of his questions about why the wizard was so feared by the whole magical community, but then it rose many more questions about why he would be after a mere baby. He’d tried finding an explanation for how he managed to ‘vanquish’ Voldemort, looking in every book he could find during the time he’d spent with Sirius. Even after eight months, he still could not find an explanation.

 

“I don’t know,” Sirius shrugged. “Nobody does, except for Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself. All I knew was that he was looking for the Potters. So I told him.”

 

“But you don’t think he’s really dead?” Harry asked, deciding not to press the topic of his parents again. The last conversation about them ended up in him and Sirius blowing up half of the living room in the house they’d been staying in.

 

“Of course not. He was immortal, invincible. There’s no way a mere baby could have stopped him.”

 

“Hmm,” Harry tilted his head to the side, thinking. “What was the Dark Lord like, when you served him?” he asked, eyeing the man curiously. Anything related to Voldemort and that night eight years ago intrigued him.

 

“I can’t remember,” Sirius shook his head sadly. “One of the side effects of being close to Dementors for many years is memory loss. They quite literally feed on your memories.”

 

Harry shuddered. He had encountered a Dementor once, when Aurors broke into the house they’d been staying in for a while. Sirius protected him to the best of his ability (he was absolutely brilliant, in Harry’s opinion) but not before a Dementor got close to him. Harry could almost feel the dry, cold hands on his skin, colouring it with blue bruises. He could almost hear his mother screaming…He could almost see the blood on his hands from when Vernon whipped them with a wooden spoon.

 

Sirius shook him, stopping the vivid memory. Harry blinked, only just realizing he’d been shivering.

 

“You all right?” he asked worriedly. Harry smiled weakly. He didn’t even want to think of how terrible it must have been for Sirius to be around the Dementors for seven years. He had told Harry of the sleepless cold nights, the wet floor, howling wind and the creeping shadows outside his cell… and the screams. They all screamed. For a while.

 

“I’m fine, Sirius.” He turned his eyes away to avoid looking at the man. Sirius was always able to guess what he was thinking no matter how well he thought he was hiding it. He knew Harry well. They had grown a lot closer during the few months they had spent together, on the run from Aurors around Britain. Harry had learned a lot about magic and their world. Aurors were trained wizards who caught criminals and those who practiced Dark magic. Sirius was apparently what they called a Dark wizard. Honestly, Harry had no idea what the whole fuss about dark and light magic was about. To him there was only magic. Sirius told him he had a dark affinity, but Harry had never thought about it much. He just wanted to learn as much as he could about his powers, even if some picky Light wizards considered them ‘evil’.

 

Sirius was proud of him and his progress with spells. For Harry’s ninth birthday, he bought him a wand from Knockturn Alley. It was one without a Ministry Tracer spell on it, so he could do magic freely. He almost blew his cover when their Polyjuice potion wore off when they were still out shopping. They got chased by Aurors for a bit, but managed to lose them after a while. Harry’s wand was made from hickory wood with a dragon heart string as the core. It wasn’t the best match for him, but he wasn’t going to be picky. Sirius said he’d get a proper wand once he went to school. His current one was apparently quite well tuned for Dark Arts.

 

Sirius thought it was hilarious.  He said that the whole magical world thought of Harry as their saviour, but he had a strong affinity for the Dark. Harry shrugged and said he wasn’t obliged to save anyone.

 

 

*

 

 

Their relationship had changed a lot since Harry had left the Dursleys. At first, they were both very unsure of how to behave around each other. Harry didn't have any experience with people other than the Dursleys (which involved him constantly being pushed around) and Sirius had not even a clue about what looking after a child involved. It took them a while to get past the awkward stage before they could really learn more about each other's and tighten their relationship. Sirius had saved Harry multiple times and protected him to the best of his ability. Harry strived to please Sirius by learning a lot about the wizarding world and all sorts of magic; be it spells, potions or herbology. At some point during that time, Harry started really looking up to the man. Sure, he was nuts, but he knew a lot about duelling: defensive and offensive spells, styles of fighting and charms. He had been an Auror, back before Azkaban… but he never ceased to impress Harry. In his head, he even referred to Sirius as ‘father’. But he never dared to speak it out loud. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but he wanted to have a family and he thought that the way they looked out for each other was alike to that of father and son. He knew Sirius would never let him get hurt. He was also always spoiled whenever he expressed a wish to have something. Sirius always worried needlessly whenever he scraped his knee or dropped something on his foot. It was nice, having someone to worry about him for a change.  Not that it was all perfect. Sirius was unstable and often got angry about small things. His magic even lashed out at Harry on occasion. On the other hand, Harry was confident most of the time, but actually had a lot of insecurities instilled into him by the muggles.

 

Sirius also let his thirst for knowledge thrive. He’d been lectured about asking questions when he mentioned his Aunt’s rule once. Sirius told him off for being completely ridiculous and expressed his wish to murder the woman. He did this fairly often and Harry knew he was being a hundred percent serious about it. Sirius never hesitated to hurt Aurors who came after them. He used dark curses to melt their skin or to make their stomach contents boil. He’d even seen him use the Cruciatus Curse a few times.  After the lecture, Harry learned not to hesitate when asking questions. He asked about his parents and about how Sirius knew them. The man told him many stories about their crazy escapades around Hogwarts and about how they all became Animagi together. He told Harry about Lily – who was a true Snake in the Lion’s den. A brave mother who was a sly woman in disguise. Harry sometimes wondered which house he’d end up in once he went to Hogwarts – Sirius assured him that he would get the necessary education and also said he’d likely be a Ravenclaw, with his endless quest for more books. Harry then interrogated him about the four houses and why in the world Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor. The man was Slytherin to the bone, as far as he could see. He had tricked everyone into believing he was supporting the Light and Dumbledore, without anyone even suspecting him of working for Voldemort. Harry also asked him about the Death Eaters a lot, but unfortunately Sirius was for the most part, unable to give him answers. He was suspicious of a pattern to his ‘father’s’ missing memories… but he didn’t dare voice his opinion. The topic of the Potters was still a rather shaky ground for both of them. He had time, plenty of time to get to know Sirius and he would get all the answers eventually.

 

 

*

 

 

They moved from house to house constantly, first across England and then all around Europe. They were all properties owned by the Blacks. Harry had learned that Sirius’ family had once been very influential all around the magical world. Also, disgustingly rich.  The Blacks were a respected pure-blood family traced back three centuries, although known for being slightly crazy. Outside of England, Sirius didn’t have to be particularly careful about being seen in public, because the British law had no hold over him there. Even if he was recognized, most wizards had respect for his name. But he was paranoid about anyone seeing Harry, so he always concealed him with various glamours so he looked like a younger version of Sirius. They called him Regulus – under the pretense of him being Sirius’ son who was named after the man’s dead brother. Harry wasn’t all too fond of sneaking around when he didn’t see how anyone could possibly recognize him – the fact he had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead was very well known, but it was also easy to conceal. A mere hat would cover it up. Except for the scar, nobody knew what he looked like, so no one would recognise him. But his father was unreasonably stubborn sometimes. Harry blamed Sirius’ paranoia on many years in Azkaban – he was suspicious of everything and everyone, including his own shadow. Sirius had insisted that it was a family trait and that it was actually a good thing. He said the Blacks never would have kept their fortunes and heirlooms as well hidden as they were if they hadn’t been paranoid and made all their Manors unplottable and concealed behind a very tough set of wards. He also always said that it wasn’t paranoia if people were _actually_ out to get you. Which they were.

 

 

Harry did like his disguise as Sirius’ son though. It made him feel closer to the man and free of the world’s expectations for the _Boy-Who-Lived_. He could happily stay as Regulus Arcturus Black forever.

 

 

 


	3. Illusionary Equilibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta.  
> If you would like to be my beta, contact me via comment here, I always check them. I'd be grateful forever and it would help improve this fic a lot, as English isn't my native language. 
> 
> I apologize for the long break. As of now, this fic will be on temporary hiatus while I try to get to grips with my uni work and the Other Half. Once it's finished, my full attention will be back to this fic. I have chapters 4 and 5 mostly written, but I likely won't upload them until the start of January. 
> 
> Ok, here goes nothing!

They walked into a small, shady alley, which was sprinkled with a bit of snow, leaving the lively noise of muggle Berlin behind.

 

It was almost spring, but the air was still freezing and their breaths were visible as small white puffs. Germany wasn’t the warmest place during this time of year.

 

Sirius grabbed Harry’s hand roughly and pushed the unsuspecting boy into the dirty, old wall on the side. Closing his eyes, Harry expected to hit his head, but to his surprise he fell right through the wall as if it was merely smoke. Looking up, he realized they were in a huge shopping centre, full of magical shops and wizards rushing to places, dressed in all colours of robes and hats. He blinked, amazed by the sheer size of it all. It was enormous. Floating balls of light, which changed colours slowly, illuminated a see through glass ceiling, high above them. You could see the night sky through it, sparkling with stars. Sirius was grinning at him madly and chuckled.

 

“Like it?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, which indicated that his father was likely up to something.

 

“It’s amazing,” Harry admitted, wondering just what trouble Sirius would get them into this time. He found out soon enough.

 

They walked into a dimly lit shop. The display at the front showed rich jewellery, rings and amulets of all sorts. The gems on them sparkled in the darkness.

 

“Jewellery?” Harry questioned, raising an eyebrow. He had no idea what Sirius wanted from such a place. The man didn’t reply and instead told him to amuse himself for a few minutes while he needed to speak to the clerk. The man behind the till was tall and had smooth blonde hair, almost a platinum colour and cool gray eyes. He stood perfectly upright, very stiffly in a posture expected of most pure-bloods. Harry and Sirius were both behaving similarly. _‘I will not have you behaving like some common muggle’_ he remembered his father snarling at him some other day when he walked looking down at the ground for a while. Sirius had smacked him across the back of the head and told him off. Well, he wasn’t about to do that again in a hurry.  The clerk spoke with Sirius in hushed voices and Harry inspected the rings sparkling on the man’s fingers, very similar to the Black family ring, which Sirius had on his finger. The other man’s ring had a silver serpent on it, with green gems for eyes, while Sirius’ had a crow’s head with rubies. He recognized the crow from the Black family crest. How come Sirius had never worn the ring before? There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed it. 

 

“Regulus, come here for a moment,” Sirius turned to him with an inviting gesture of his hand. Harry nodded and walked up; perfectly aware of the scrutiny he was under from the clerk’s cold, gray gaze. He put on his best pure-blood façade. He walked lightly and confidently in long, graceful strides, his chin held up and a slight smirk on his lips.

 

“Yes, Father?” he asked politely. Sirius gave him an approving look.

 

“Let Mr. Weiss measure your right hand’s index finger.”

 

Harry obeyed, placing his right hand on the counter. Mr. Weiss took his hand in his own, inspecting it. Harry’s fingers were slender and delicate, but scarred from his accidents and punishments at the Dursleys'. The man checked his finger size with an odd contraption made up of silver circles, which resized to fit around it.

 

“Your order will be ready in half an hour, Mr. Black,” the clerk announced, his stony expression not betraying anything.

 

Harry was more than intrigued as to where this was all leading to, but knew better than to pester his father for an explanation. After half an hour they picked up a small black box and left a hefty amount of gold in the shop, leaving Mr. Weiss looking a lot more satisfied with the sack in his hand.  Just as they were about to go, three new customers came in. There was a tall man with platinum hair flowing down his shoulders gracefully and cold gray eyes a lot like the shop clerk’s. Behind him was a boy around Harry’s age, who looked very much like his father and a woman with black hair and deep blue eyes, which looked a lot like Sirius’. Harry had a strong feeling he knew who they were and it wasn’t long before his suspicions were confirmed.

 

“Sirius!” the woman almost exclaimed, her pure-blood behaviour being the only thing preventing her from doing so. Sirius nodded at her reluctantly.

 

“Narcissa, Lucius. What a pleasure,” he said, trying to look as friendly as he could. “It has been too long, dear cousin,” he turned to the woman who smiled at them both a bit warmly now. Her husband remained impassive, while the boy looked smugly down at Harry.

 

“Indeed it has. We thought you were...dead,” Narcissa admitted quietly. Sirius smiled at her a bit more gently than before.

 

“And I don’t blame you, everyone thought so. And it would be better if it stayed that way,” Sirius said and the woman gave him an understanding look.

 

“Is this your son? Draco, if I remember correctly?” Sirius looked at the blond boy with amusement. The child was much too smug for his own good.

 

“Draco Malfoy. A pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Black,” the boy said, his voice not entirely hiding how much he didn’t want to speak to the man. They shook hands and then Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“This is my son Regulus,” he introduced and Harry shook hands with them all.

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Malfoy. Your defiance to stand aside as muggles invade our world is impressive,” Harry said. He truly did admire the man. He almost openly supported the Dark, refusing to hide and cower like most others.

 

The blond man arched an eyebrow.

 

“I must say, Black, I am pleasantly surprised. It would be a pleasure to get to know you better than from what the press says. Consider this an invitation to visit us at Malfoy Manor back in England whenever you are free,” he said and after nodding curtly, went away to speak to the clerk. Harry noticed a very similar ring on Mr. Malfoy’s hand to that of Mr.Weiss. They were definitely related. Interesting, he was not aware of any Malfoy blood in Germany. Then again, some pure-blood families were rather secretive about such things.

 

“Thank you Lucius, we will surely take you up on your offer someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later,” Sirius shook the blond man’s hand and they parted ways.

 

Once outside, Harry raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

 

“Sucking up to Malfoys now, are we?”

 

Sirius put on a serious expression. “Connections are important. And Malfoys are allies to the Dark; it will be good to have them on our side. I was considering making an appearance on one of the pure-blood parties during the summer, just after your birthday anyway. It will be good for you to learn about your future classmates.”

 

“Hm. So what’s in the box?” Harry changed topic to the black object in Sirius’ hand. Now the man smiled widely and took him over to a bench beside a fancy fountain with a moving frog statue in the centre. It eyed them curiously.

 

“As you know, you are very important to me. And I would like to make you my heir,” Sirius said, handing him the little box. Harry opened it with shaking hands.

 

“An heir ring!” he exclaimed, the reality of it shocking him even though he had anticipated it just a little.

“Are you willing to accept it, Harry? You’d inherit everything after me one day, you’re what I consider my family and I’d be happy to make you my heir.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened and watered a bit, but he blinked the tears back, knowing it was ridiculous.

 

“Thank you… You have no idea… I…Thank you,” he wanted to explain just how much it mattered to him, but couldn’t find the right words. Sirius pulled him into a quick hug, reluctant to show affection in public.

 

“Put it on,” Sirius said, taking the ring out of the box and passing it to Harry.

 

With slightly shaking hands, Harry slipped the ring onto his right hand’s index finger. It was a perfect fit and it was very beautiful. A crow with ruby eyes; much like Sirius’ ring, except for it wasn’t just the bird’s head, but the entire body. The gems in it were considerably smaller and there were a few of them on the sides of the crow too. Inside of the ring the words ‘ _Toujours Pur’_ were engraved in elegant, slanted writing.

 

Spurred by the moment, Harry blurted out, “Can I call you Father?” and then immediately turned away, expecting the man to get angry.

 

“Of course you can. Hey, turned around,” the man grabbed his chin and made him face Sirius’ black gaze. “Harry. It’s fine. You can call me Father,” he reassured and Harry now did break out in tears, burying his head in the man’s thick red robes.

 

He muttered a muffled ‘thank you’ into the material, but he knew Sirius heard because a hand came up to his head and stroked his hair gently.

 

“It’s my fault your parents are dead. The least I can do is give you a semblance of a family. I might not be the best father out there but I’m wiling to try,” Sirius chuckled grimly, only a slight waver in his voice betraying his regret about what happened. Harry had a suspicion that the man regretted it far more than he let on, but he wasn’t about to question it now and spoil the moment.

 

 

*

 

 

They wandered around shops for a few hours, indulging in buying whatever they wanted. Money was not a concern, where their expenses were merely a drop in the pools of gold in the Black family vaults. Harry also knew he had his own fortune his parents left him, but he never claimed it, because Sirius absolutely refused to take him to Gringotts until they could no longer avoid it. He was adamant about keeping Harry’s identity a secret and even though Goblins were sworn to protect their customer’s privacy, he said that Albus Dumbledore had an unsavoury ability to find out secrets which were thought impossible to be revealed. He wasn’t bothered anyway; Sirius had always provided everything he needed and on occasion what he wanted too. Not that he was demanding or materialistic – he only asked Sirius to buy him new things when he really needed them. Well, on occasions such as this it was useless to try to stop the man from buying things so he decided it was easier to give up and let Sirius spoil him while he could. Otherwise he would just buy a mountain of things when Harry wasn’t looking anyway.

 

They were going past a shop, which advertised expert eye treatments and Harry jumped in excitement, begging Sirius to have his eyesight corrected. They had nicely fixed up his old glasses, but they were so old even magic was starting to fail when repairing them.  The man shook his head violently, firmly stating that he wasn’t letting any strangers near Harry’s eyes with wands or feeding him any strange potions. The boy tried to argue that they were trusted, trained professionals and they had no reason to poison him. Sirius wouldn’t have any of it though. He dragged Harry to the apparition point in the back of the shopping centre, all the while being whined and yelled at. This was one thing that Harry desperately wanted and there was no way he would give up this argument. He was past letting others control his life and he could be very stubborn once dead set on something. The months he had spent with Sirius had allowed his true nature to start coming out more. He was quiet and polite most of the time, maybe a bit sarcastic at times. But he was also stubborn and terrifyingly fierce in achieving his goals. He wanted his eyesight fixed; he would get it fixed one way or another.

 

They argued over it for several minutes, ending with Harry kicking Sirius in the shin and Sirius almost slapping him, before remembering they were in public. They retreated back to their home just outside of Berlin, before neither could attract any more unwanted attention. It was a fairly small house (by Black family standards, for anyone else it would still have been huge) and it was nicely secluded from the muggle settlement by some trees. It wasn’t quite a forest but the trees were big enough to have a bit of wildlife and protect them from prying eyes.

 

When they apparated back into the main hallway, they were glaring daggers at each other, neither willing to budge on the subject. Sirius hadn’t spent seven years in Azkaban to lose arguments to a ten-year-old.  Harry inherited his mother’s fierce personality and wouldn’t give up first either.

 

“You agreed to be my heir and want me to be your father; you should at least listen to me!” Sirius roared, towering over Harry.

 

“And this is my body to do with as I please! I want my eyes fixed; it’s a common procedure! They’re not going to poke my eyes out with their wands! You’re paranoid!” Harry yelled back, refusing to be intimidated.  A smaller part of him, which still associated loud voices with Uncle Vernon, was terrified. His hands were shaking, even though his eyes showed no sign of his inner turmoil. He told himself time and time again that he was old enough to stand up for himself. However ideas and reality were two different things and he knew all too well the impact of Vernon’s ‘punishments’ that was left on him. He had nightmares and flashbacks and was terrified of large, fat men. And kitchen utensils.

 

“It’s not paranoia if people actually are out to get you! Who knows what they might do to you!” Sirius defended himself, anger flickering in his dark eyes dangerously.

 

“Why would they do anything to me? What would they gain from it? Nothing! They want their money and they will do their job right. Why can’t you see, some random witch in a shop in Germany is not out to screw up my eyes on purpose!”

 

“My answer is still no! Absolutely no!”

 

“You’re ridiculous!”

 

“And you’re careless! You’re ten years old and I’m responsible for your safety!”

 

Harry threw his father one last furious look and slammed the door to his room, spelling it shut. He wanted to be left alone. He still didn’t deal with arguments very well. Tears escaped his eyes and he curled up on his bed, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The silence was broken by noises of things breaking and Sirius’ furious spell casting. Harry winced each time a loud bang or smash shook his room and as each wave of angry magic washed over him. His whole body broke out in shivers as he relived memories of his Uncle throwing things at him and shouting at him about how it was his fault they were broken. He remembered the feel of fat hands against his backside, the pain of a belt whipping his back and the burn of cigarettes being pressed into his skin. Dragging the cover over his head, he tried to stifle his whimpers and go to sleep. He could deal with Sirius the next day.

 

 

*

 

Early in the morning, Harry sneaked down to the living room and threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace. The flames turned green and he quickly jumped in, whispering the address he remembered from the shopping centre yesterday. Seconds later, he stepped, or rather, tumbled out of the fireplace at his intended destination. Sirius hadn’t got around to teaching him the secret of remaining perfect and stoic during apparition and Floo travel. He hated both, they made his insides twist violently, but he knew it was a necessary evil and was still better than being stuck in a Muggle car for hours. Wasting no time, he picked up a flyer from one of the shops nearby and after making sure no one was looking, he transfigured it into a note, in Sirius’ handwriting, stating he was allowed to have his eyesight corrected.

 

The medi-witch who owned the shop was a very nice woman in her thirties with blonde hair pinned back impeccably and bright blue eyes. She didn’t ask too many questions; even saying the note wasn’t necessary. The procedure itself took a few hours, because the spells were slow-working and took a while to wear off afterwards. The potion keeping him unconscious wore off and he woke up when it was late afternoon. He felt well rested and not in any way damaged. After blinking a few times, his vision cleared and he was thrilled to find out he could see a lot better, but still not perfectly.

 

“Are you feeling alright Mr. Black?” the woman asked with a wide smile. He returned it politely.

 

“Yes, thank you for asking,” he said, looking around curiously, for the first time since he could remember being able to see properly.

 

“I’m sorry to say your eyesight was too damaged to be fully or permanently fixed. You might still need glasses to see far away, like reading from the board during class. Also, your eyesight will deteriorate again within the next few years and you will have to come back to repeat the procedure. Once you are eighteen, you can opt for a permanent improvement again, your eyesight should be stabilised naturally by then. But you have some time for that and you shouldn’t have to worry about it any time soon,” she winked at him with amusement. “Now, that will be 30 Galleons and if you wish to get new glasses as well, that will be another 10 or 15 depending on the frames. There are also more expensive ones with enchantments on them. You can have a look over there,” she pointed to a shelf with different eyeglasses frames on them.  There wasn’t a lot of choice, because glasses were a lot less popular with wizards. In general, a wizard’s magic usually fixed their eyes if their general health was good. Harry suspected that his magic was directed to healing so much of the time that there was none left for him to fix his eyesight when he was younger, so it just got worse and worse over the years. Damn Dursleys. He wished he could curse them then and there, but refrained from showing his anger, wearing a cool expression instead. Yes, he had realised he did hate his so-called family after all. He hadn’t wanted to kill them when he left Privet Drive number 4, and he still didn’t think he was ready for that. But a slashing curse or two wouldn’t be amiss… Well, maybe one day he would get the chance for that. Now though, he was happily away from them and really they didn’t cross his mind all that much and he would gladly continue ignoring their existence instead of going back to that horrid place.

 

After quickly trying on a few of the glasses, he chose a frame similar to his old one. It was thinner and better made, but the lenses were still round, although smaller and fitted his face better. They didn’t hide his face; instead they framed his eyes nicely. He requested a charm, which would adjust the strength of the lenses, as his eyesight would get worse over time. He paid a total of 45 Galleons (he had been saving pocket money for an occasion such as this) and hurried back. It was already getting late and he _knew_ Sirius would be livid when he found out what he had done. And he would find out. Harry had locked his room under the pretence of hiding the whole day. Sirius wasn’t an idiot though and he’d more than likely have barged in there by now. Breathing in deeply, he steeled himself for the hell that was to come. Not that he regretted it.

 

 

*

 

 

Stepping out of the fire, he found the house oddly…silent. The lights weren’t on.

Harry walked through the room carefully, fingering on his wand a bit nervously. Nothing in the hallway, nothing in the kitchen. Silence. His breath seemed loud and his footsteps were almost deafening. Swallowing thickly, he went on as quiet as possible, his wand out. Going up the stairs, he stepped as lightly as he could, trying to stop them from creaking as much as possible. There was no sign of Kreacher or Sirius anywhere. His heart started to beat faster and faster; his breath hitched suddenly when he heard a high pitched noise of a door closing somewhere behind him. He stilled for a moment, straining his hearing, but he couldn’t hear any footsteps. His wand hand was starting to shake a bit, either from fear or holding it up for too long, perhaps both. It was dark and he could barely see, every shadow he could see out of the corner of his eyes seemed to be moving, just waiting to jump out at him. Heading towards Sirius’ room, he was desperately willing his whole body to stop shaking, with little success. He was going past his own room when he noticed that the door was open, only slightly. He pushed it open slowly and hesitantly, still not daring to make any noise. The things in his room were knocked over all over the place and the curtains had been ripped off the window together with the rail they’d been hanging on. It was a very unpleasant sight and Harry gulped loudly, the skin on his neck breaking out in cold sweat.

 

_It was dark, his Aunt and Uncle were asleep. Dudley too. It was late and he was tired…very tired…his hands were blistered and they felt like they were burning, he’d been scrubbing the kitchen clean all night…his eyelids were falling shut…if he could just sleep for a little while…he shook his head and splashed his face with some cold water. He needed to make the kitchen sparkling clean or else his Aunt would shout at him and tell him how useless he is, a useless freak just like his father and mother…and then Uncle would whip his hands again…if he was lucky…he continued cleaning the gap between the floor and the oven thoroughly, but his hands were so sore already, he could hardly feel them. Only a few more hours and he would be locked in his cupboard again and able to sleep. His Uncle wanted him out of the way while they had guests, so he’d likely not be allowed back out until late the next night. He should probably sneak a little bit of food into his cupboard now, or he wouldn’t get anything to eat for an entire day. He groaned quietly. It was unfair, Dudley could eat all he wanted and then sweets too…while all he got were leftovers. His Aunt always said that was all he deserved and that he should be grateful for whatever they gave him. But today he had seen some other kids at school being picked up by their mums… he was sure none of them were up at three in the morning, cleaning the kitchen while their families slept. He couldn’t help but think it was unfair…suddenly he felt he wasn’t alone anymore. There were eyes watching him in the darkness somewhere…he shuddered, fear taking over. He got to his feet and looked into the shadows behind him…he turned around again and suddenly a pair of hands landed on his shoulders…and then all over him…he didn’t even know what was happening, he couldn’t see…then his hair was pulled back and his Uncle’s face appeared beside him, his moustache grazing Harry’s ear_ _roughly. He muttered something_ _that Harry didn’t quite understand and_ _a fat hand cupped his backside…_

A hand was placed on his shoulder. He screamed in panic, shrugging himself free and taking a few steps back, just to put some distance between him and his Uncle. He had to get away! Cold hands curled around his neck, stopping his breath immediately. His vision blurred and everything seemed to be swirling around...He desperately clawed at the hands, only barely managing to wring them off and stumble backwards. He couldn’t let this happen again! He breathed in sharply, choking on air a few times as he tried to balance himself, but he ended up tripping over something. He fell to the floor and the dark figure towered over him...he curled up, covering his face with his arms defensively. Tears were already flowing from his eyes... _No, Uncle, no!.._ he sobbed quietly. He was kicked in the stomach and yelped in pain, his arms moving down to protect it. His eyes were closed, tears streaming down from them. Several kicks later he was crying out loudly with each hit, begging for it to stop. He wished the pain would go away, that someone would save him from his Uncle...

 

“Sirius...” he whispered desperately just as he was fading into consciousness. There was too much pain. His body was tired and broken, unable to fight back any longer.

 

 

*

 

Sirius stilled. His raging thoughts came to a screeching halt. He blinked, not comprehending what had just happened. He blinked again. Harry was lying on the floor in front of him, curled up and bloodied. Who did this? Whoever hurt his Godson had hell to pay for it. He looked around quickly, where was the culprit?

 

But there was no one there.  Just Harry and...him.

 

He looked down on his hands and feet, astounded. Had he really been the one to...do _this_ to Harry? He would never hurt his Harry. He would kill and torture to protect the boy, but he’d never raise a hand against him. He blinked again. His hazy, confused mind was slowly starting to piece it all together.

 

Harry had been gone when he barged into the boy’s room in the morning. No note, nothing telling him where he might have gone... He tore the manor apart, searching for Harry everywhere. He sent Kreacher out to look around the manor’s grounds too. He had just finished searching through the basement, when he heard someone going up the stairs. He went up there as quietly as he could. Azkaban had given him an edge to moving silently...When he caught up to the intruder, finding them _in Harry’s room_ , he attacked without thinking twice. His survival instinct kicked in, overriding all logic and sense.

 

He shuddered at the realization. Guilt and worry were almost wrenching his heart out of his chest...He had been the one to attack Harry without thinking. He had almost _killed_ the same boy he swore to protect with his own life. He couldn’t control himself. He was a monster. Azkaban had affected him more than he had thought... it was over a year since he had escaped from the prison, but now it seemed there was no escaping from the insanity that had taken over his body and mind. He had known it was there. He could feel it lurking inside of him, like a shadow in the abyss of mixed up memories in his mind. Within him was an uncontrollable beast which would stop at nothing and tear apart everyone and everything in its path.

 

He picked up the small, bloodied body and laid him down on the bed. Harry looked peaceful, too peaceful for being inches away from death.

 

A healer. He needed a healer; this was far beyond his own abilities. He paced quickly, back and forth along Harry’s bed, frantically trying to think of a healer he knew. They were in bloody Germany and he had virtually no contacts here. He couldn’t as well Floo St. Mungo’s in England, he was a wanted fugitive after all. The search for him had been going on for almost a year, but the Aurors were not deterred and continued to make it impossible for him to return. Argh, he was getting distracted with useless thoughts again. He needed to get Harry to a healer and he needed to do it fast. Just yesterday they were happily shopping carelessly and making polite conversation with the Malfoys... _ah_! Narcissa was a qualified healer, even though she didn’t work. After barking a quick order at Kreacher to look after Harry, he bolted downstairs and jumped into the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo powder into the flames.

 

He tumbled out into the reception room of Malfoy manor rather gracelessly. His robes were covered in soot, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. A rather pathetic looking house-elf appeared in front of him, asking what brings him here in a high pitched, squeaky voice. Sirius towered over the creature, a wild desperation in his eyes.

 

“Narcissa,” he choked out, coughing on soot which was rising from his robes in small puffs. “Get me to Narcissa, I need her help.”

 

The little creature squeaked and scurried off to find the blonde woman. Sirius paced restlessly around the room, leaving a dirty trail behind. After a few minutes he heard heels clicking on the floor outside and he ran out to come face to face with his cousin.

 

“Narcissa, I need your help. Come, quickly!” he dragged the unsuspecting woman through the fire and then to Harry’s room. Narcissa almost shrieked at the sight in front of her. She always kept a cool head though and immediately figured out what Sirius was asking of her.

 

“Any potions?” she asked Sirius and he ran off to check their supplies. She turned back to the boy and after vanishing his outer robe and shirt, inspected his injuries. Three of his ribs were broken and there was some internal bleeding. This was not good. She had to act quickly if she wanted to save the boy. Her spellwork was quick and precise, her wand hovered over the bruised body and broken bones, slowly closing up the wounds and repairing the damage done. She chanted under her breath, closing her eyes in concentration. Healing was complex and a very delicate process. She went into a meditative state, extending her magic to inspect the damage done internally. Magic let her hear the boy’s quiet, uneven heartbeat and the struggling breath. He was holding up a bit better than she had expected, but he was far from doing well. Carefully and slowly, she poured more magic into the healing spell, stopping the internal bleeding. She evened out her own breathing, knowing it was important to stay focused, but not panic. The level of magic going into the spell couldn’t fluctuate too much; it could result in doing more damage instead of healing. She heard Sirius walk back into the room and stop somewhere nearby, saying he had a couple of blood replenishing potions and a healing salve. She nodded, but didn’t reply.

 

She worked through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Finally she managed to stabilise the boy’s condition and could take a rest.

 

“How is he?” Sirius’ voice interrupted the silence of the room.

 

“I’ve done as much as I can for now. He will be alright,” Narcissa said, sitting back on a chair and brushing off the hair from in front of her eyes. She was exhausted. “You can apply the salve after twelve hours; otherwise it can have a bad reaction with the spells which are rebuilding the skin tissue at the moment. Refrain from directly touching the wounds, your magic might interrupt the slow working spells and result in more bleeding. Otherwise, he should be alright and wake up sometime today or early tomorrow,” she explained, her eyelids slowly falling shut, but she shook her head and forced herself to focus again.

 

Sirius nodded silently, also looking dead on his feet. He hadn’t left Harry’s side at all while Narcissa was healing him.

 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. He turned around quickly, now wanting her to see his sorrowful expression. Narcissa smiled gently.

 

“It’s alright to show emotion, we’re family after all. We have to help each other in difficult times,” she said and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thanks Cissy, I know. Thank you again,” Sirius returned the simile and Narcissa chuckled at his use of the nickname. It had been a while since anyone had used it.

 

“If you would like, you can take him to our house, where I can keep an eye on his recovery. Lucius is probably going to want an explanation for this as well.” The blond woman looked over to the sleeping boy, who still looked awfully vulnerable.

 

“Are you serious?” the man’s eyes widened.

 

“No, you’re Sirius,” Narcissa laughed and was pleased that her cousin cheered up a bit at that.

 

“I can’t believe that _the_ Narcissa Malfoy actually used that joke,” Sirius shook his head with amusement.

 

 

*

 

 

At Malfoy manor, they were greeted by a half furious, half worried Lucius, who for once lacked his grace and poise, looking like he hadn’t slept all night.

 

“Black! Explain this to me right now, before I-,” he demanded but then his eyes landed on sleeping boy in Sirius’ arms and his lips formed a thin line as he re-assessed the situation.

 

“Dobby!” Lucius called and then turned to the elf which popped out of nowhere right beside him.

 

“Yes Master?” the creature’s huge, brown eyes looked up at the man immediately.

 

“Prepare two guest rooms for Mr. Black and his son. Later, wake everyone in time for dinner. Take Draco to his Dark Arts lesson at 1 o’clock and bring him back and make sure he completes any homework he may have. Tell him I will check it in the evening,” Lucius commanded in a firm, but not intimidating tone.

 

“Yes Master Lucius, Dobby will make sure everything is taken care of,” the creature squeaked and vanished in thin air.

 

“He will come back and take you to your rooms in a few minutes,” the blond man said to Sirius and he got a thankful nod in return. “Now, Narcissa, let’s get some sleep and we can talk this situation through over dinner,” he walked up to his wife and brought an arm around her waist after which they both left, speaking in hushed voices.

 

Sirius finally relaxed a bit, sighing heavily. He sat down in one of the armchairs in the room and started stroking Harry’s hair gently. His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears at the thought that this whole situation was entirely his own fault. He decided that he could leave emotionality for later, for now he needed to take care of the boy the best he could. He needed sleep too and for the next twelve hours, there was nothing else he could do for Harry. He swallowed thickly at the thought of how he could possibly explain this whole mess...but his depressing thoughts were interrupted by the Malfoy house elf telling him their rooms were ready.

 

He placed Harry down on the bed gently; brushing the boy’s raven hair away from his eyes and then took off his glasses, laying them down on the nightstand on the right. He watched Harry sleep for a while, in his thoughts scolding himself for being an insane idiot. 


	4. Leaving Just A Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to push things along a bit…some of is a bit more ‘tell’ rather than ‘show’ but oh well. This is what happens when you try to cover half a year in one chapter. Even though I tried to go through the events quickly, it’s still ridiculously long. Also, in canon, Wilkes is a Death Eater who died during the First War. His looks and personality are all mine though. In the books it was only mentioned that he was caught and killed by Aurors when resisting capture. 
> 
> Now sit back and enjoy this 20 page long chapter.

Harry woke up in an unfamiliar room. His whole body was aching awfully and when he tried to sit up in the bed, his limbs outright refused to move. He sighed deeply, wondering just what had happened. He remembered going back to the house and finding it silent and empty. He was startled to recall the feeling of cold hands wrapping around his neck…but after that he must have blanked out, because no matter how much he tried, he could only remember his Uncle. Which was ridiculous, because there was logically no way the man could have found him, and much less hurt him. Sirius would have probably murdered the man on the spot if they ever encountered Vernon again. Harry knew exactly how much Sirius despised Muggles on principle and how he completely and utterly loathed Vernon for what he had done to Harry. On more than one occasion, he had been shaken awake from a nightmare by a frantic and desperate looking Sirius who then pestered him to spill the details of his dreams until Harry eventually, very reluctantly, told him in exactly which memories were haunting him in his sleep. The man was a walking time bomb after each of those occasions, looking quite like he could murder anyone unfortunate enough to be on the wrong end of his wand. Harry sighed, his father was so impulsive. Quite often, he felt like he was the adult there and had to talk sense into Sirius’ thick head.

 

He lay there for a while, quietly inspecting his memories and trying to shake off the odd, uneasy feeling, which was still hovering over him. It was dark in the room and his body refused to move, so that was all he could do for now. Sirius would probably come to see him when morning came, he always checked in on Harry when he slept, or at least when he thought Harry was asleep. On more than one occasion, he was in fact awake and simply let the man watch over him in silence. He had a habit of thinking over things when he was in bed, often staying awake for many hours into the night, mulling over something in his head repeatedly. Lying down quietly for a while was no problem for him, although after a while he started to fidget a bit. His body was sore all over and no matter how he positioned himself, he was still uncomfortable. A faint glow of daylight was now noticeable behind the thick curtains on the window, so he was fairly certain it was early morning already. It was the only thing keeping him from forcing himself out of bed. He wanted to know where he was and what the hell was going on. He snorted; Sirius’ bad language was worming its way into his head. He’d have to work on that, he had every intention of keeping his manner of speech as polite as possible. He didn’t want to embarrass Sirius by repeating some of the words he’d heard the man say, in public. He knew he had to adhere to the books on pure-blood etiquette he’d been reading over recently, if he wanted to have any chance of getting into the more important social circles later on in life. He snorted again, doubting that any other ten year old was thinking about things like that. Then again, he’d always known he was different from the other kids. He had always been far ahead of children his own age, but tried to go by unnoticed and blend in. He didn’t like the looks the other kids gave him, so he tried to keep to the shadows and not stick out. With his Boy-Who-Lived status in the wizarding world, that was more than likely to change, but it didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. But then again, he could as well try to get used to it and make the most of the attention people would give him. He could make Sirius proud by doing well in school. He could try to get to know the children of known Death Eaters. He had a feeling Sirius would approve of that. He didn’t know exactly what the man’s plans for him were, concerning the Dark Lord that is, but he knew Sirius would be less than pleased if he fell into the trap of Albus Dumbledore’s manipulations. He scrunched up his nose at the thought; he wasn’t particularly fond of the man since he had learned it was him that carted Sirius off to Azkaban without a trial and dumped him at the Dursley’s doorstep in the dark of the night, with only a letter to explain the situation to them. He suddenly thought that he should ask Sirius what school he’d be going to. He’d somehow assumed that Hogwarts was the only choice, but he wasn’t as naïve as to think that it was the only school of magic in Europe. He remembered reading something about an academy which prided in the acceptance of all sorts of students, while focusing on teaching Neutral magic, as well as offering theoretical studies of Light and Dark Magic, letting the students study their affinity magic outside of school, keeping the clashes over affinity to a minimum. It was somewhere in France. There was also another one, which he didn’t have a clue where it was, that had a strong policy of not accepting Muggleborns. It did however accept non-humans, which could wield wizard magic, such as descendants of nymphs, vampires and the like. It was all kept very secretive and little information about it was available from normal books. Harry was really curious about the two schools, but was also fascinated by Hogwarts, from all the stories Sirius had told him about the ancient castle and it’s magical secret passages and moving suits of armour. It sounded amazing. Upon thinking about it, he remembered reading about some smaller schools around Europe, which only had its local students. They weren’t very renowned though, so Harry dismissed the thought of them without much regret.

 

The idea of being away from Sirius stung his heart a bit, he was the only person that had ever cared for Harry and the thought of losing the man was terrifying. He also knew that Sirius would be paranoid of letting Harry out of sight for a few months. Despite the fact that Harry proved himself to be amazingly capable of taking care of himself for a nearly ten-year-old, the man seemed to be convinced that everyone and everything was out to hurt Harry and he deemed it his duty to protect the boy to the best of his ability. Sometimes his protectiveness was completely uncalled for and it irritated Harry, he _liked_ being able to get things done by himself. This made him think back to his trip into Berlin to get his eyesight fixed and then his return to the empty house. He really wanted to know what had happened. He still didn’t regret going behind Sirius’ back on this, he was actually quite happy that he could see a lot better, although not perfectly. He didn’t feel completely lost in a blurry world whenever he didn’t have his huge spectacles on anymore. He felt a sense of accomplishment at this and he knew he could smirk smugly in Sirius’ face and prove to him that the procedure did not result in his eyes being poked out by an incompetent witch.

 

His smug musings were interrupted, however, when someone opened the door and walked in. it was a woman with long, blonde hair and pale blue eyes like ice. Narcissa Malfoy. He tilted his head to the side slightly, wondering why in the world the woman was here.

 

“Sirius! Harry is awake!” Narcissa called out into the empty hallway behind her and then turned back to face Harry.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked in a warm and gentle voice, which Harry hadn’t expected from her at all. The only other time he saw her, she was cold and wore an expression of someone that had just eaten a very sour lemon.

 

“I’m a bit sore,” he admitted, stretching a bit and feeling his aching limbs again. Only after a few seconds, he realised that she had called him _Harry._ She clearly noticed his look of shock and silenced him with a quick move of her hand.

 

“You nearly died, and had multiple broken bones. It’s to be expected. As for everything else, we can explain later. You need to rest now,” she explained and sat down on the bed, just beside him. She took out her wand – a perfectly smooth, short one with little decoration. She spoke a few words in Latin quietly and a blue light shone from the tip of her wand and onto Harry, making his skin look sort of see through, reminding him of a muggle x-ray scan. It was quite odd, being able to see his own bones. He stared with wide eyes as she inspected his ribs and then gave him a small, satisfied smile.

 

“You’re recovering quite fast. With enough rest, you can probably get out of bed tomorrow,” she announced, while putting away her wand into a hidden pocket in her expensive-looking robe. Harry returned her smile faintly, mostly desperate to know what had happened to him. She seemed to pick up on his uncertainty, and opened her mouth to speak, but at the same moment Sirius burst into the room, still in his pyjamas and looking like he had shot up from bed merely seconds ago. Narcissa snapped her mouth shut and left, leaving the two of them alone, knowing they would need some privacy to talk everything over. She just hoped they wouldn’t argue and blow up the room. Blacks had the tendency to have very explosive tempers. She would know about that, being a Black herself. She was a very difficult person to anger, but once something set her off, she was unstoppable. Even her husband was scared of making her angry, not that he would ever admit to such a thing.

 

Narcissa looked back at the locked door of the room and wondered how young Harry had even managed to put up with Sirius, his parent’s betrayer. Her cousin had told them about how he had rescued the boy from his abusive, _muggle_ family. He had no way of avoiding explaining that, after all Narcissa and Lucius both immediately recognised the famous scar on the boy’s forehead. It took some Slytherin tactics to get Sirius to open up to them, but he eventually confided everything in them. They had once been friends of sorts, before Sirius had gone to Hogwarts and had his head practically re-arranged by Dumbledore and James Potter. Narcissa was very glad to have her dear cousin back again.

 

*

 

Harry blinked stupidly as Sirius fell to his knees beside the bed with a desperate, somewhat horrified expression on his face. The man’s wavy hair fell over his face, hiding his eyes a bit, for which Harry was quite grateful, because the look Sirius was giving him made him very uncomfortable.

 

“I’m so sorry Harry. I’m so sorry. I was a complete idiot, I didn’t think-“

 

“What are you apologizing for?” Harry once again blinked at Sirius, looking completely dumbfounded.

 

“It was me, it was all my fault, I shouldn’t have let my control slip, I’m so sorry Harry,” the man rambled on, a desperate waver in his voice as if he was about to _break_ down completely or something, which unnerved Harry to the point that he started fidgeting and biting down on his lip.

 

“What was your fault Sirius?” he asked calmly, in a levelled tone. He needed to get Sirius to calm down before he would get any information out of him. This had happened before…only twice, but Harry knew that Sirius was more fragile and unstable than he seemed. Deep down, he knew the man was twisted and insane because of his long stay in Azkaban, but he refused to admit it to himself. He wanted Sirius to take care of him so badly he would really rather pretend everything was just peachy. But the fact remained that Sirius had his good days and bad days. Sometimes he would be cheerful and relaxed, and then suddenly snap and ramble on about nothing in particular in a very hollow voice, his empty eyes wide and haunted. He’d sometimes regress back to how he was in Azkaban. He’d sit in a corner silently, his eyes shifting from one side to the other quickly, as if he could see some invisible enemy trying to sneak up on him. Sometimes he’d yell and shoot off spells at shadows. Harry had seen it more than once, it was really very frightening…but he couldn’t help but crave the attention Sirius gave him. He was kind and patient with Harry most of the time. He _cared_. Harry had silently vowed that he would stick with Sirius no matter what. Sirius was willing to do the same for him, even though he was still dealing with a lot of his own problems.

 

The man stared at him in a heavy silence, his gaze so heavy on Harry it was almost suffocating.

 

“I was the one who attacked you…I’m so sorry,” the man whispered and turned his gaze to the floor quickly.

 

Harry’s expression quickly morphed between shock, fear, anger and then bitterness. They at in silence for a few minutes, while Harry processed and analysed what he had just been told. He then brought his hand up to Sirius’ chin and pushed it up so the man had to look at him.

 

“I’m not angry,” said Harry calmly, his big, green eyes locking with his father’s onyx ones gently. There was nothing contradicting his words in those eyes, just acceptance. He gave Sirius a small, weak smile. It was the best he could manage.

 

Yes, he felt hurt and betrayed, but logically, he knew it wasn’t Sirius’ fault. He’d never harm Harry of his own volition. And he was too dependent on the warm, unconditional affection that Sirius gave him to distance himself from the man. He couldn’t bear to even imagine giving up on Sirius now. He knew Sirius was dangerous and unstable, but all he could think in response to that was that he simply didn’t care. He knew he could get hurt again if he stayed with his father, but he was more than willing to risk it. Sirius was the only one that cared for him unconditionally. He was the only one Harry cared about in return. He wouldn’t give up on his only family simply because Sirius was a bit crazy. Who wasn’t crazy, really? The Dursleys, by many people’s standards would be considered crazy because they would harm a child. The Malfoys could be considered that as well, because they followed the darkest wizard of the _century._ ‘Normal’ did not exist as far as Harry was concerned. So he’d stand by Sirius no matter what.

 

All the while said man was staring at him with complete disbelief written all over his face, completely speechless. It took a few snaps of his fingers in front of Sirius’ eyes to get the man to come back to reality again.

 

“But…Harry, I almost _killed_ you.”

 

“Yes and because of you my parents are dead. I’m a forgiving idiot, as we’ve already established,” Harry rolled his eyes. Sirius chuckled humourlessly.

 

“I should reprimand you for your language,” he said, a slightly amused tone starting to colour his voice again. Harry beamed back at him, eager to put the heavy conversation behind them and hopefully forget all about it.

 

“But you aren’t going to,” he grinned and to his relief, Sirius returned the expression.

 

“I really don’t deserve your forgiveness, Harry,” he shook his head weakly, still completely stunned by how calm the boy had been about it. “But I suppose all I can do is try to make the best of the chance you’re giving me and try to make it up to you.”

 

Harry nodded. His smile fell a bit. “All that time all I could think of was my Uncle. I didn’t even see you...attacking me,” he grimaced. “So let’s just try to forget about that for now, okay?”

 

“Sure thing, but I won’t forget your kindness. Ever,” Sirius assured him, taking his small hands into his larger and stronger ones. “I promise this will never happen again.”

 

Harry could only hope so. He really wasn’t as naïve as to think that Sirius could always keep his …insanity in check. He’d just have to get stronger to protect himself next time and the problem should be solved _, right?_

*

Harry finally joined them for dinner the next day, looking a lot better. It was a quiet affair, minus a small incident when Harry spilled his juice and spluttered indignantly when he was told that Sirius had told the Malfoys of his real identity. Apparently the charm on his forehead, concealing the scar, had failed when he was in a critical condition and Narcissa saw it. She pieced together a theory of how he came to be under Sirius’ care, but she didn’t immediately confront her cousin about it, knowing he was under a lot of pressure already, but she had asked him after Harry’s condition had stabilized a bit. Sirius, feeling guilty and overwhelmed, spilled everything.

 

Lucius had apparently suffered quite a shock when she told him who exactly was recovering in one of their guest bedrooms. He admitted that his first reaction was anger at the brat who had caused their Lord’s downfall. Narcissa had managed to placate him though. After all, how could a mere baby have stopped the Dark Lord? There had to have been more going on behind the scenes that they were aware of. Voldemort was immortal, invincible; there was simply no possible outcome of that situation in which Harry could have ‘defeated’ Voldemort.

 

The Malfoy Head of House was eventually convinced to concede the point. There was really no reason to be angry at a 10 year old for something he could not even remember. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. He had not really thought of revealing himself to people other than Sirius. Upon thinking about it though, it was inevitable. Draco would have realised his true identity when he went to Hogwarts.

*

Their stay at Malfoy Manor ended up extending for over a week. Narcissa, who (to Harry’s surprise) was a protective and fussy mother hen, insisted on keeping him there until she was absolutely sure he would be all right. Harry realised that even though the woman had a strong, cold façade she showed to the public, she was actually a very warm person who cared about her family. She seemed to consider Harry family too, because he was Sirius’ heir and she fiercely demanded that he should come and visit more often. She was delighted when he and her son, Draco seemed to get along. Harry was less than thrilled; the boy was a smug, annoying kid who didn’t seem to be interested in much except for racing brooms. He was decent enough company though and Harry wanted to please Narcissa, so he played along and inspected Draco’s new broom with awe. It really was cool. It just wasn’t entirely _his thing._ He preferred books and potions and the theory of magic. He hoped that Draco would grow up to be more tolerable and that he would do so soon, because he hardly had any common ground with the boy and found it hard to make their conversation flow. He realised that even in the wizarding world, he would have a difficult time fitting in. He was… he sighed. There was no point in analyzing this again. Kids his age would eventually grow up and catch up with him. He would just have to wait a while.

 

Lucius, however, was…brilliant. He was calm and collected, but by no means cold. He allowed Harry the use of his private library, which sent the boy sky high. He found a lot of interesting books and had already begged his father to allow him to come back to read more. Sirius agreed easily, knowing Harry could use some other company than him and a barmy old house elf and spending time with the Malfoys came easily to both of them. Lucius was Harry’s new favourite adult, right after Sirius. He manipulated people with skill and finesse, which Harry had witnessed briefly when some acquaintance of the man showed up to discuss some political manoeuvre or something. Harry couldn’t keep up with their conversation, but had instead analyzed how completely and utterly Lucius had wrapped the man around his little finger. Sirius had mumbled ‘perfect Slytherin’ under his breath, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Harry’s awe with the man. Harry giggled at that and wondered whether he could ever hope to be even a bit like Lucius… he scolded himself; Sirius was still his primary…role model, of course. Harry knew Sirius could be very ‘Slytherin’ if he wanted to be, but he didn’t seem to be a natural at it. He just made use of those skills when absolutely necessary.

 

All the Malfoys carried themselves with fluid grace and their appearance was always impeccable. Narcissa insisted that Harry should get tutored in pure-blood etiquette, to which Sirius eventually caved. She was going to teach him personally, for a few hours each Thursday afternoon. Harry was supposed to Floo there from Black Manor in France. Oh, the wonders of convenient magical travel.

 

Their time with the Malfoys was over too soon for Harry’s liking. He loved their library; it was full of very intriguing titles he had yet to read. Sure, each Black Manor had it’s own sizable collection, but Harry never ceased to want to read _more._ Lucius praised his eagerness to learn, which left Harry in a sort of Happy bubble for the next couple of days. He had come to see the Malfoys as his extended family. While they weren’t as important to him as Sirius was, they had become precious to him in their own way. Narcissa was delighted when he started calling her ‘Aunt’. She insisted that family was very important to a young wizard and that he should get to know them even better. She even showed him a book detailing the Malfoy family tree and how they were related to other pure-blood families. It was proof that she really cared for him – those books were unique and precious heirlooms which were not showed to anyone outside of the family. Harry’s eyes filled with tears as Narcissa pulled him into a tight embrace. Sirius was pleased that his heir was coming out of his shell a bit. Of course, being in a way accepted into their family, Harry was immediately instructed on some important rules. He was to never show weakness in public or in front of strangers. He had known that already and promised Lucius he wouldn’t disappoint them, while his lips curled up in a true Malfoy-worthy smug smirk. Another important rule was that he had to carry himself with pride. He wasn’t just any lowlife Mudblood. He was an heir to two very powerful pure-blood families, Potter and Black. He had to act like it. Harry really hoped he could live up to their expectations.

 

 

When the time came to say goodbye to the three blonds, Harry promised them he would come back to see them soon. He truly felt like they were his family now and he would miss them dearly. Even Draco. He was sort of like an annoying younger cousin, but Harry had developed a slight soft spot for the boy. He couldn’t exactly hold his childishness against him. After all, they were both only nine, even though he seemed to completely forget about that sometimes.

 

“Make sure Sirius finds you a home tutor so you can catch up with me, “ Draco said to him smugly when they were just about to go back to their Manor through the Floo. Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I will.”

 

“Take care of yourself,” Narcissa said to him and hugged him for the last time. Lucius shook his hand.

 

“Remember that you’re both welcome here at any time,” he said in a voice just a bit warmer than usual. Harry beamed at him.

 

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely thankful. Sirius also thanked Lucius very politely and then promised Narcissa that he would stay in touch through letters. One last goodbye and they walked through the green flames back into their silent, empty home in Berlin.

 

*

 

A week after they returned, Harry had the most unexpected guest suddenly pop into his bedroom in the middle of the night. He nearly cursed the creature in panic.

 

A pair of huge, brown eyes staring right at your face when you’re sleeping is not exactly what he was used to waking up to.

 

Dobby smiled at him sheepishly.

 

“What are you doing here? Did Lucius send you?” Harry asked coldly when he finally calmed down.

 

“No, Master Lucius doesn’t know Dobby is here. Dobby had to sneak out, he will have to punish himself afterwards,” the house-elf grinned.

 

“So why are you here?”

 

“Dobby had to warn Master Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter should not go back to Master Lucius’ house,” the creature’s eyes got even wider than before, if that was even possible. Harry had known the elf was completely loony, but he had simply ignored it before. It kept on staring at him intensely. He didn’t like being stared at like that. Not at all.

 

“Why?”

 

“Master Lucius is a bad wizard, very bad, Harry Potter should not associate with bad wizards like him!”

 

“Don’t you dare insult Lucius!” Harry scoffed, affronted. “And why exactly would I not want to go back? They are my family.”

 

“Master Lucius…he served You-Know-Who! He is a very bad wizard!” Dobby squeaked and then quickly grabbed a book off Harry’s nightstand and proceeded to hit his head with it repeatedly. The green-eyed boy stared in dumbfounded silence for a minute and then snatched the book away from the elf. “This book is important, don’t break it,” he hissed in annoyance and put the heavy tome away.

 

Dobby bowed. “Dobby is sorry Master Harry, but Dobby had to punish himself.”

 

Harry just eyed the creature coldly.

 

“I don’t care if Lucius was a Death Eater,” he said evenly, true to his words. His own father was one, so why should he worry about it?

 

“But they are bad wizards and Master Harry Potter is supposed to fight the bad wizards and save us all from You-Know-Who!” the elf squeaked, it’s eyes almost popping out. It was creepy.

 

“I’m not anyone’s ruddy saviour,” the boy hissed back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Just because the Dark Lord disappeared and I survived that night, means _nothing_. I don’t care if you were placing your hopes in me; I’m not obliged to save anyone.”

 

The creature squeaked again and a very sleepy (and angry at being woken up by odd noises) Sirius barged into the room.

 

“What is it doing here?” he demanded at once and Dobby quickly vanished in a panic with a quiet pop. Sirius and Harry looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

 

“We need to go tell Lucius that he needs to control his house-elf better… tomorrow. I want to sleep more,” Harry shrugged and fell back onto his pillow.

 

*

 

True to his words, Harry visited Malfoy Manor the next day, Sirius en tow. Lucius looked surprised to see them back so soon and not on a Thursday evening. He raised an eyebrow elegantly, curious as to what brought them there.

 

“Guess who showed up at our house in the middle of the night yesterday,” Harry said, crossing his arms.  “Dobby. Your house elf.”

 

Lucius’ handsome features contorted in anger, before he put forth a mask of displeased annoyance instead. “And what exactly did he do?” he inquired coolly.

 

“He told me that I shouldn’t come back here and that ‘Master Lucius’ was a bad wizard,” Harry scowled. He did not take someone insulting his new family lightly. It affected him more than he had expected it to, because he found himself seething after he woke up and remembered the events of the previous night. That house elf was in much need of a lesson in discipline.

 

“Interesting,” Lucius said slowly, his eyebrow twitching a bit with anger. “Dobby!” he called and the small creature immediately materialised beside him. At the sight of his Master’s angry face, it squeaked in fear and cowered. “I will deal with you later, but consider yourself lucky that you know too much for me to simply dismiss you. You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Lucius hit the creature in the back with a black cane. It was very expensive-looking; a snake’s head decorated the handle. It was made of silver and its eyes were a clear, sparkling emerald. The man was hardly ever seen without it.

 

Harry eyed the creature with contempt. He had slightly mixed feelings on the treatment it received from the Malfoys, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel truly bad for it. He disliked the thought of physical punishment altogether, but Dobby had insulted Lucius, which still made him impossibly angry whenever he thought about it. 

 

“Narcissa will be very pleased to see you, Harry,” the blond man said to him, dismissing Dobby with a shrug of his hand, not looking at him. Harry beamed. “She’s in the lounge with Draco, I suspect.”

 

“Is it alright if I go there just now?” Harry asked Sirius, though he knew his father had no reason to refuse. The man nodded and Harry walked away quickly (because Malfoy’s and Blacks were above _running_ ) to find his Aunt and cousin.

 

Sirius and Lucius engaged in a lengthy discussion about finding a suitable tutor for Harry. Neither of them doubted that the boy had learned a lot already, but there was only so much he could learn by himself or from Sirius. He was no teacher, although he always tried to help Harry in whatever ways he could.

 

Lucius recommended one of his old Death Eater acquaintances, who now tutored young Dark pure-blood children for a living. He was quite sure the man would have no problems with Harry’s identity and could be trusted to keep it secret. Sirius was reluctant to let some stranger into their home, so it took some convincing, but he eventually agreed, knowing Harry would be very happy to learn as much as he could, even before starting school. Most pure-blood children would have already been learning magic since they could first hold a wand, so Harry would have some catching up to do. The sooner he started - the better.

 

They joined Narcissa, Draco and Harry in the lounge, continuing their earlier conversation. Lucius recommended to them a man called Alexander Wilkes, a former member of Voldemort’s Inner Circle. He had a good reputation among the pure-bloods and was very talented in Dark magic, having invented some dark curses himself. He was also a qualified Potions Master and the fact he had been one of Voldemort’s supporters wasn’t very well known, because he had mostly worked from the sidelines and doing research into new curses instead of fighting. He had already been Draco’s tutor for two years and the Malfoys had a good working relationship with the man. Sirius was satisfied with this choice, while Harry had almost _glowed_ at the possibility of learning how to create his own spells. His happy bubble had been quickly burst by Lucius who said it would be at least another four years before he would have enough knowledge of magic theory for experimenting with it. Instead of deterring Harry, it only motivated him to study harder.

 

Narcissa decided to continue with their Etiquette lessons even though it was not a Thursday evening. They went over table manners, which Harry grasped quite quickly. He didn’t exactly see the point of having a dozen different sizes of forks to choose from, but he didn’t voice his opinion and instead focused on trying to memorise each of their uses.  Draco was giving him smug looks, clearly saying that it was ridiculous that he didn’t know it all already, which Harry pointedly ignored, causing the small blond to go into a small huff.

 

*

 

It was a month before the tutor could come and see them at Black Manor in Vienna. They had moved to Austria merely a week before and were only just settling in. The Manor was considerably smaller than the other ones they had stayed in, but it had extensive grounds with a very beautiful garden. First flowers had appeared, now that it was warm enough and the place looked really lovely. There were no other magical houses around there, as far as they knew. According to Sirius, the house had been used only once every few years during the winter school break. He had only been there when he was very small and was just about as lost as Harry, trying to get used to the new surroundings.

 

When Kreacher popped into the study, Harry was at that moment fidgeting on his seat restlessly and jumped up at once, lunging towards the house elf, who was rather startled by his eagerness.

 

“Masters, Mr. Wilkes has arrived and is awaiting you in the guestroom,” he croaked and Harry’s eyes lit up brightly. He had been very excited for his first lesson, to the point that Sirius had to tell him to stop whining about having to wait, several times. 

 

Mr. Alexander Wilkes was quite tall and lean, though his frame was mostly hidden by a long, dark gray robe. He had deep auburn hair which fell loosely over his shoulders, framing his thin face neatly.  His eyes were a strong sapphire blue and he looked around Sirius’ age, perhaps a bit younger. He gave them both a curt nod.

 

“Alexander Wilkes. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, just enough to be polite and he reached out to shake Sirius’ hand.

 

“Sirius Black,” the black haired man returned the gesture. Alexander’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, but he gave no other indication that he didn’t expect it. He turned to look at Harry instead.

 

“And the young man I’m going to be teaching is..?”

 

“Harry Potter, sir,” the boy supplied, also shaking the man’s hand.

 

This time the man gasped and his eyes immediately sought out the scar on the boy’s forehead after which he quickly masked his surprise and smirked slightly instead.

 

“Lucius _did_ tell me you would be interesting,” he chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry, your location and identities are safe with me. I’m an Occlumens and I value my clients’ wishes privacy.”

 

“We’ll be counting on that,” Sirius said grimly. He didn’t much like letting some stranger into his house. Harry scowled at him for being apprehensive, so he quickly invited the man into the room they would use for lessons and then left the two alone. It was a small study with a table set near the window. There were also a few shelves filled with books.

 

“Would you like to start by telling me what you already know? Have you studied any magic before?” the man asked as he placed himself on one of the chairs, just opposite of Harry. He sat elegantly, with his back perfectly straight and moved the hair out of his eyes, tying it back at the base of his neck loosely with a black ribbon.

 

Harry nodded eagerly, “I’ve only been learning for…less than a year. Since Sirius got me a wand for my birthday last July, actually.”

 

“Good. We might have to go over the basics again, they are the most important. We will start with Charms, Defence, Arithmancy, History and Potions. Once you’ve learned some of that, we can begin covering the Dark Arts, Rituals, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and others. The subjects we will study first should give you a good grasp of the basics you will need for the more advanced classes,” Mr. Wilkes explained and wrote down a small list of books for Harry. His writing was very small, but neat and elegant. Harry nodded eagerly, already ticking off a few of the books in his head, because he already had those.

 

“I think for today you can just show me what you already know and then we can properly start once you’ve got all your books. I will only be able to teach you twice or at most three times a week and I will expect you to do a lot of work on your own. I might assign you reading sometimes, but we will do most of the practical work during lessons.”

 

“I like reading,” Harry shrugged. “Father says it’s rare to see me without my nose buried in some book,” he rolled his eyes.

 

“That’s good, but you have to remember to practice as well. No matter how well you know the theory of a spell, it means nothing if you can’t actually draw out the power needed to perform it,” Mr. Wilkes said, and Harry agreed.

 

They spent another hour going over what Harry had read and learned. He performed a few simple spells for Mr. Wilkes, such as _Reparo_ and _Vingardium Leviosa_. The man seemed pleasantly surprised with his knowledge of _Accio_ , which wasn’t usually covered until third year at Hogwarts. It was a summoning spell Sirius had taught Harry because he constantly left his glasses all over the place, since he didn’t need to wear them all the time anymore. Mr. Wilkes corrected some of his wand movements slightly, but said that Harry had a good grasp of the spells he already knew.

 

After they were finished, Sirius invited Mr. Wilkes for tea and they conversed lightly about what Harry will learn in the near future. On the topic of Hogwarts, Sirius was made aware that he had in fact met the man before. Mr. Wilkes had attended Hogwarts around the same time as Sirius, being two years below. It was then that Black recalled him hanging around Severus Snape and Evan Rosier. They had been a group of aspiring Death Eaters and the whole school knew that each of them knew more Dark spells by the time they started first year, than most seventh years did. Sirius admitted that his only recollection of the man was from the times when he was pranking Severus together with James. Wilkes and Rosier usually tried to stand up for the boy, without much success, because they wouldn’t risk actually attacking fellow students when there were witnesses. They did get Sirius and James back once or twice, in very Slytherin ways, so they never got caught. Wilkes was a Ravenclaw, but he mostly hung out with the Snakes and had clearly been influenced by their behaviour.

 

The auburn haired man laughed the matter off, saying “That was years ago, let’s just put it behind us,” to which Sirius immediately agreed. He was ashamed of what he’d done to Severus on some occasions and particularly because he nearly got the boy killed once. It wasn’t a memory he particularly wanted to re-visit.

 

Mr. Wilkes arranged a timetable for Harry, which consisted of three days of classes for four hours at a time. He would have Arithmancy and Charms early on Monday, Defence and Potions on Wednesday mornings, as well as History on Friday afternoons. Harry wasn’t particularly looking forward to four hours of History, but Mr. Wilkes said that they could quickly work through first and second year’s material for that class and then fill in that block with a new subject, which Harry figured was a good idea and was quite eager to do.

 

Finally the man left and Sirius thoroughly interrogated Harry about how their first ‘lesson’ went. The boy assured him that Mr. Wilkes was a good tutor, as far as he could tell. He always spoke straight to the point, but explained everything well enough for Harry to understand. He seemed to be used to working with kids his age, even though he never once treated Harry like a small child that didn’t understand something, for which he was grateful. He _hated_ being talked to as if he was a dumb five-year-old.

 

*

 

Harry quickly adjusted to the routine of his classes with Mr. Wilkes, while also continuing his Etiquette lessons with Narcissa, in which he was now learning how to dance. His tutor was very pleased with how quickly he was making progress, having very quickly grasped the foundations of Arithmancy and the theory of Charms. They were very important subjects for spell creation, which was Harry’s main motivator to learn. It quickly became the apparent that Mr. Wilkes was an expert in Potions and the theory of magic, both Light and Dark. He harboured a bit of a soft spot for Harry ever since he learned that the boy was a natural in Potions. It was the man’s passion and he always got excited whenever talking about the possible ways to improve or alter a standard potion. His enthusiasm quickly infected Harry too and he began to really enjoy brewing. Sirius scrunched up his nose in distaste every time his heir spoke excitedly about something or other he needed to stir every half an hour. The man _hated_ Potions. Harry paid it no mind though and simply continued making them a stock of simple, but useful potions. His least favourite class so far was History. It was boring. The Wizarding History mostly consisted of goblin wars and…more goblin wars. Otherwise, their world was so set in their ancient ways that barely anything of interest to him had happened. Mr. Wilkes promised they would get to the more interesting stuff later, such as the history of Merlin and Circe and their influence on how wizards perceived Light and Dark magic in the current times. Harry was desperate to leave the goblin wars behind and move on, with which his tutor wholeheartedly agreed, even though he refused to allow him to skip that part of History altogether.

 

Mr. Wilkes was, overall, a nice man. He was strict and very well organised, but not oppressively so. He never once made Harry feel like he wasn’t doing good enough. He always encouraged him to read more outside of their lessons as well as practice, which Harry – being a bookworm - would have done anyway. Mr. Wilkes occasionally let him borrow his own books for extracurricular reading, which made the boy _ecstatic_ , because some of those tomes were rather hard to come by. The man was very ‘Ravenclaw’, as Sirius had described him. Harry usually scoffed at his father’s simplistic categorization of the wizarding populace, but found himself occasionally agreeing when someone fitted such a stereotype. Even though he was a teacher, he still continued learning new things in his free time. He also had a good understanding of how pure-blooded ‘Slytherins’ operated, since he had grown up surrounded by them. Sirius was not impressed at being seen through so effortlessly. He told Harry some stories from his time at Hogwarts, about his exploration of the school’s library, and about the Ravenclaw tower. Harry thought that having to solve a riddle was a very clever way to set up the entrance to their common room, to which his tutor replied by telling him a tale of how once he couldn’t figure out the answer and ended up being locked out of the tower for an entire night. Harry found it very amusing, while the man scowled at the memory of sleeping on the cold floor with ghosts floating past every so often. Harry honestly had no idea how this man could have possibly been an Inner Circle Death Eater. He had imagined them as being intimidating and merciless. Alexander Wilkes certainly didn’t seem to be either of those. He was actually rather amusing, even though he had a strong, stony facade like most pure-bloods. Sirius didn’t really seem to like the man much, but Harry noticed that Mr. Wilkes had a bit of a soft spot for him and was a lot more relaxed in only Harry’s company. This made him even more sceptical of the man’s status as an Inner Circle member. Then again, he often wondered the same about his father, who was a rowdy child in a grown man’s body most of the time.

 

Before he even realised it, summer had started and passed and it was already close to his birthday. Nothing to disturb their semblance of normalcy had happened in the last few months. Sirius still had his worse days... he would regress back to what he was like straight out of Azkaban, seemingly noticing Dementors in every shadow and flinching away from their long, rotting hands… but those occurrences seemed to decrease in number, which made both of them very pleased. They now lived in a house in Greece, beside the coast. It was a bit too warm for Harry’s liking, Sirius’ too and they mutually agreed that they wouldn’t stay there for too long. He already had a bit of a light tan, which annoyed him. He was an _indoors creature,_ as his father had phrased it.

 

Sirius was still too paranoid to take up permanent residence anywhere, which Harry found he didn’t mind too much. What bothered him was the fact that Sirius seemed to get even more paranoid during long, calm periods of time when nothing bad happened. It was like the man was expecting something terrible to happen at any moment, because things have been _too_ calm. Either way, because they constantly moved around, he got to visit many interesting places that way and learn how wizards all over Europe lived. He could bet that not many children his age had such a brilliant learning opportunity. He thoroughly enjoyed learning a bit of each language as they changed countries. He had no intention of learning every language, he wasn’t quite that crazy about studying, but learning enough to be able to go to say hello and talk about the weather was quite nice. Not that Sirius let him talk to many strangers, because he was absolutely convinced that they were all out to kidnap Harry or to capture him and throw him back into Azkaban. Each time, Harry had to roll his eyes and tell his father that he was being ridiculous.

 

*

On the morning of his birthday, he awoke to a wonderful breakfast being served to him in bed. Sirius decided to completely spoil him on the day and had secretly arranged a small surprise party for Harry, together with Narcissa. It wouldn’t be until later in the afternoon though, so he had plenty of time to give Harry his present first.

 

Harry was still in bed; reading a book on protective enchantments, when Sirius brought in a few boxes in, while singing “Happy Birthday” with a ridiculously wide grin on his face. Harry took care when opening each of his gifts, knowing he would treasure every single one. There were a few books, a set of crystal flasks for potions and a telescope with a wall poster sized lunar chart. Mr. Wilkes must have tipped Sirius off about the fact that Harry would be starting to learn Astronomy soon. The gifts were all brilliant and Harry hugged his father tightly, thanking for them with a wide grin of his own.

 

Later that day, they went over to Malfoy Manor for an elegant dinner and tea party, all generally a bit too pompous for Harry’s tastes, but very nice nonetheless. Narcissa bought him a set of dark green robes with silver embroidery in the shape of small snakes near the high collar. Harry was almost reluctant to accept such an expensive gift, but Narcissa was practically glowing as she handed the package to him and he didn’t have the heart to reject it. Draco got him sweets… lots of them as well, which Harry thought was amusing and not unexpected, even if he didn’t really like sweets much. Draco’s gift was very appropriate for someone his age, really. He wasn’t about to complain either and instead smiled warmly at his cousin, thanking him politely. Lucius’ gift was rather interesting. It was a set of duelling gloves, made from dragon hide and a wand holster with an invisible enchantment on it. Harry strapped it to his forearm and slid his wand into it smoothly, staring in wonder as the whole thing vanished, even though he could still feel it tightly secured in place by the straps. The blond man proudly announced that the gloves also had a few complex shielding enchantments on them, allowing them to absorb some minor curses and hexes. Harry was almost itching to start practicing duelling, but his tutor said he wasn’t ready for it yet. They would introduce an exercise routine into Harry’s schedule, starting with some easier things to build up his stamina and train his reflexes. Mr. Wilkes, who was also present at the party, insisted that training duelling would be pointless if he got tired after merely three minutes of a match. He indulged Harry by teaching him some new spells, which were useful in combat and helped him practice creating shields.

 

Harry huffed, but didn’t argue the man’s teaching methods. So far he was very happy with everything he had learned and was progressing quite quickly, which annoyed Draco _immensely._

 

They spent the evening relaxing and Harry even danced with Narcissa for everyone’s amusement. It was a very pleasant day, as well as Harry’s best birthday ever. He was constantly smiling and laughing and probably for the first time allowed himself to relax and act his age, letting the adults do the all the worrying and being uptight.

 

*

 

They decided to go back to Scotland after the summer.

 

The warm months had passed already and a dark, gloomy atmosphere hung over the whole country, accompanied by constant heavy rain, which pounded on the windows of their house relentlessly. The depressing mood clearly brought down Sirius’ spirits. It was obvious he was relapsing with all the bad memories brought back by returning to the country. Harry really hoped that he would get over it soon… it hurt, seeing the man so quiet and sad.

 

They could see Hogwarts towering above the village and Harry was rather excited to go there the next year. Sirius did confirm that Harry would indeed be going there, since his parents had already signed him up and paid for his education before he was even born. The boy was ecstatic, even though there was still nearly a year until he would even get his acceptance letter. He already knew all about it, of course. An owl would bring him a list of required items and books on the day of his eleventh birthday and they would go to Diagon Alley to purchase everything, for the first time allowing Harry to be out in the public as the Boy-Who-Lived. Then he would go to Kings’ Cross in London and get on the train to Hogwarts. It all seemed a little pointless, since they now lived in Hogsmeade, but Harry knew better than to raise suspicion of where he actually lived. He was better off taking the train with the other children. He could make friends before the Welcoming Feast that was too. He already had Draco, so he wasn’t particularly worried about that either way, but perhaps a head start wouldn’t be so bad. Children liked to form little groups right away and it was harder to blend in with them later.

 

Harry poured some tea into the delicate teacups, waiting for Sirius to return. It had been a quiet day. It was dark and unpleasant outside, so they would probably just sit in front of the fire and read while sipping on tea and relax for the rest of the afternoon. Harry was surprised his father even wanted to do any work on the wards around the garden while the weather was so miserable. It wasn’t like they couldn’t wait a day or two.

 

Suddenly Sirius burst into the room, his face red and bleeding from a few small cuts across his cheeks. He was very pale, his hair was dripping wet and sticking to his face while his eyes shone with a desperate, crazed light while he looked around in panic.

 

“Kreacher. Take everything to Grimmauld. I’ve been spotted,” he rasped out, his breathing uneven. Harry’s eyes widened in shock and he shot up from his seat, spilling the tea at the same time. He flexed his wrist quickly, releasing his wand from its invisible holster. He grasped it tightly, hearing blood pump loudly in his ears. Sirius cast an impromptu glamour spell on him, turning his hair blond and long enough to cover up the scar. The wards around the house shook and groaned.

 

The Aurors were there.

 

Harry’s hands were quickly becoming slick with sweat and his whole body shook – he didn’t know if it was due to fear or excitement or perhaps some twisted mixture of both. Sirius was pacing restlessly, his wand raised. He knew the wards wouldn’t hold against the assault of an Auror squad and that they didn’t have any time left to make Harry a portkey. They’d have to stay and fight, then run away and disapparate together. Sirius just really hoped it wouldn’t end badly.

 

“I thought there was a Dementor behind me. It was dark and I lost it again,” he explained with a sour, heavy expression on his face. Harry tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it didn’t really work, instead turning into an odd twitch of his lips.

 

“It’s not your fault. Let’s just get out of here, alright?” Harry said, looking around anxiously, not knowing which direction the Aurors would be coming from. “Should we go out the back?”

 

His father nodded tensely, if they stayed in the house, they’d be trapped like mice. They both quickly made their way out of the back of the house while the wards shook, straining under the Auror’s assault. The garden in the back of the house was dark and very overgrown, giving them some potential cover. They rushed to the very edge of the wards, but it was too late to just run away. With a loud crack, the protective enchantments on the house crashed and they were faced with five Aurors rushing in their direction, wands raised. The first few stunners and disarming charms flew past them, making Harry’s heart beat even faster if that was even possible. He didn’t know where they were coming from and was looking around frantically, trying to pinpoint from where the hexes were being thrown. Just behind him, Sirius started to throw back his own spells and conjure temporary shields to repel them. His reflexes were sharp and precise; he had already managed to knock out one of the Aurors with a well-placed stinging jinx. He grabbed Harry’s shoulder roughly, because the boy was standing in place, shaking in fear as two tall, strong looking wizards were advancing on him with their wands raised. He was frozen in place, a dozen possible spells to use were racing through his mind, but what if the Aurors knew better spells, what if he made a mistake and used the wrong one, what if…? He was jerked backwards, almost falling, but he managed to keep his balance.

 

“Come on, James!” Sirius said distractedly, while casting a _Terebro_ and _Scindere,_ both rather dark curses over his shoulder hastily, hitting an Auror with one of them, while the other man deflected the tearing spell with a powerful _Protego._

 

Harry scowled but quickly controlled himself; this was not the time to be getting frustrated with his father’s insanity. He gripped his hickory wood wand rightly and raised it, determined to get a grip on himself and actually do something useful. This what he had been studying to desperately for.

 

“ _Expelliarmus_!” he yelled, aiming for one of the younger Aurors who was approaching him from the left. The woman deflected the curse, but that was what Harry had hoped for. A rather strong and well-timed _Flipendo_ sent her flipping backwards through the air and slamming into a tree, likely knocking her out. He didn’t linger to confirm that though and instead went on to distract one of the Auror’s Sirius was fighting with a very simple leg-locking spell. It worked, and the man momentarily looked in his direction, giving his father the chance to cut across the man’s chest with some dark curse Harry didn’t recognise – it was probably too advanced for him to have heard of it. A grin broke out on Sirius’ face and he sent Harry a quick, grateful nod. They ran, trying to get away from the three Aurors who were still chasing after them. The anti-apparition ward was still up, making them unable to get away quickly.

 

One of the older, battle-scarred Aurors, with a wild left eye which zoomed around in its socket like mad, looked like he was up to something, judging by the lopsided smirk on his face.

 

A sickly green spell flew in Sirius’ direction, but it missed him. Harry’s eyes opened wide in shock and his mouth went dry.

 

“Alastor!” the other female Auror shrieked. “No Unforgivables! He has to be captured _alive!_ “

 

The man shrugged, his wand still raised while Harry and Sirius both leapt for cover behind a tree.

 

“He’ll be given the kiss once he’s captured either way,” he said unapologetically and once again shot the Killing Curse, which hit the tree they were hiding behind.

 

“Stop it, Moody!” the other man yelled, firing some red spell of his own towards them, which Harry countered head-on with a reflecting shield. “The Minister did not authorise-“

 

“Do you want to let him get away or not?” Moody barked back, releasing a chain of quick spells in their direction.

 

Sirius pulled Harry backwards and they ran to hide behind another tree, while the man cast a few spells to distract the Aurors for a moment. He pushed Harry behind him and took on a protective stance. The three remaining opponents were not very far away.

 

“ _Vacuum Maxima!”_ Sirius shouted, thrusting his wand forward. A black sphere appeared just behind the female Auror and expanded quickly, engulfing her and the immediate surroundings. A bright violet light shone from the black sphere before it vanished with a bang and a puff of smoke.

 

Sirius turned around to Harry, smiling victoriously, his eyes glazed over with excitement. The Aurors were nowhere in sight.

 

“Let’s go,” he said, reaching out to Harry, offering his arm for side-along apparition. But Harry wasn’t given time to react, because a blue light flashed, hitting Sirius’ left leg. The man fell over, howling in pain as blood seeped out of the huge chunk of missing flesh. Harry saw red, there was so much red…

 

He did the first thing that came to mind.

 

He turned around and spotted the mad-eye Auror lying on the ground, also in a pool of blood. His left leg was _gone_. It was a rather revolting sight, but Harry didn’t spare the thought to be disgusted. He raised his wand and yelled “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”, his rage and fear driving all his power into the spell. The faint blue glow hit the Auror, freezing him in place. Harry quickly turned back to his father and knelt right next to him, picking up the thestral hair wand from the ground and shoving it back into the man’s hand.

 

“Apparate us,” he said, his voice wavering. Sirius’ heavy lidded eyes looked up at him uncomprehendingly. “Apparate us, now!”

 

Harry’s voice cracked and he choked back a desperate sob. His father still looked completely out of it, but he gripped his wand tighter and a second later, they were being squeezed through space and time, leaving behind a huge hole in the ground from Sirius' spell, the auror's stiff body a _lot_ of blood.. 


End file.
